


They Say Love Is Blind, But Love Is Insane

by FactoryWorker8



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Blind Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, prince!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryWorker8/pseuds/FactoryWorker8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Derek has yet to marry by his 29th birthday and tradition states he must be married to a chosen suitor by the time he turns 30. Stiles, the ultimate nobody from the ultimate nowhere, is the one chosen to marry the moody recluse.</p><p>Rated teen and up for swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> I have never seen Teen Wolf, and never written a multi-chapter fic before. I'm posting this as a test chapter to see whether I can finish it or not. This is un-beta'd, and probably preceded by a prologue if I do end up writing more.
> 
> Edit: With regards to place names, they live in the country of Brighland, Derek is Prince of a town called Tulwell and Stiles lives in a small town called Chalford. It's the British monarchy with the American police system.

June 21st. Summer solstice. The day the nation had been preparing for and Stiles was lying in a king-sized bed in his temporary room in Hertford palace wearing a Star Trek t-shirt and a pair of old boxers panicking under the duvet. The necessary stuff for the week that was in his room had been mostly packed up the night before ready for him to move again today. Only the few most essential things that he would need in the morning, like his phone, toothbrush and razor remained unpacked. As well as the alarm that had been put on his bedside cabinet and set for early o’clock; not by him. If it was up to Stiles, the alarm clock would never go off because that would signal the start the terror about to ensue. It hadn't not gone off yet, and he was just waiting, imagining it ticking away like the countdown to a bomb, or like the ticking crocodile in Peter Pan. As soon as that alarm clock went off, he was going to die. Probably. In a figurative sense. 

Today he was getting married to a guy he had never even met, and who lived in a world miles away from his own. He was just a small guy from a small town called Chalford on the west coast of Brighland. Until tonight, when everybody would know his name, his face. Everything about him would become public interest, even his very few short-lived relationships.

For the gazillionth time Stiles’ asked himself why he had been picked. Why him? Why not somebody with better qualifications, or social status, or good looks, or a better brain-to-mouth filter, or anything really? Stiles had nothing to offer to anybody, probably why he was still pitifully single at the grand old age of 24. Well, he had a degree in Ancient History and Classical Mythology. Which was useful. If you wanted to be a museum tour guide. Which he didn’t. So he had a job at the local bookstore where he did almost absolutely nothing because nobody was buying books anymore. Something to do with the rise in popularity of eBooks and the fact that it was much cheaper and easier to buy books online. Still, it was money right.

But alas, HRH Queen Talia (“Please, call me Talia. We are going to be family after all”) had just been extremely, and annoyingly, cryptic and said “I have my reason dear” and that was that. You don’t tend to question the head of state in these situations. Or ever if you’re a mere commoner like Stiles. 

So Stiles had once again managed to find himself in the most difficult and unbelievable situation to explain to his friends and family, just like that time where he got arrested by the new guy on his dad’s police force and then had to explain to his dad, and by proxy all his deputies, why he’d been running about naked in the woods in the middle of the night.

Only this time he wasn’t naked in the woods. He was marrying a stranger. Sure he’d seen the odd picture of his man in the papers, who hadn’t? By that Stiles meant he had seen lots and lots of pictures. When the news broke that Prince Derek Hale of Tulwell had not found a match by the coming of his 29th birthday, and that an arranged marriage was to take place before he turned 30, his face was plastered over every newspaper and tabloid there was.

But that didn’t mean Stiles was happy about it. He wasn’t even sure why he agreed, although it was pretty hard to turn down the Queen of Brighland, especially one as frightening as Talia Hale. 

After that, he pretty much decided to avoid all the papers. He didn’t want to hear what the newspapers had to say about the state of the monarchy, or what the red top tabloids had dug up about Derek Hale’s past relationship failures and teenage misdemeanours. He didn’t want to form too strong an opinion before he even met the prince, especially not a bad one. That would put a right dampener on their relationship from the very beginning. As if being complete strangers won’t already have ensured that.

And now this was his life. Stiles Stilinski (now his legal name – he changed it when he found out he was getting married to a prince on television so it wasn’t announced to the nation – because his birth name is impossible to say, and not the name he wanted to be known by), 24, about to get married to a prince whom he’d never met and who had a reputation for being a bit of a social recluse.

“Fuck” he breathed, looking at the deep red walls of the palace room that he’d been carefully sneaked into a week ago so that none of the press got wind of his identity. All of his belongings had already been packed up into boxes and moved into wherever he would be living once he was married; leaving only the essentials he needed for the week with him in a small bag in the corner of the room. 

His friends and family had all arrived in the days after that, so that his identity couldn’t be discerned through association to them either. His friends and family consisted of his dad, John, the sheriff of his home town Beacon Hills, his best friend since before he could remember Scott McCall, and his wife Allison, née Argent, and Scott’s mum, Melissa, a hospital nurse who may or may not be dating his dad. Don’t ask what you don’t want to know, right?

Also in his pitifully small wedding party (‘fuck I’m getting married’) was Lydia Martin, second best friend and stylist for the day, with her plus one Jackson Douchebag Whittemore. Ok, Stiles will admit that he’s not so much of a douchebag anymore, and yes his high school crush on Lydia was rather much a hero-worship that would never have made a healthy relationship, but he’s still not ever going to completely forgive Jackson for being such a jerk to everybody and still managing to get the girl of Stiles’ dreams.

The room he had been given was large, much larger than his room in the flat he rented back home. The walls were painted a deep red colour that looked extremely regal and very befitting for a room in a palace, and were decorated with pieces of artwork. There were some pieces painted by the most famous and prestigious artists, Stiles thought one of them was a Monet, and the others were portraits of royals, past and present, including Queen Talia and her husband, Prince Phillip.

Hanging in an elaborately carved oaken armoire that was lined up along the back wall, or a wardrobe to the non-posh folk, which Stiles most certainly wasn’t classed as, was the most beautifully tailored white three-piece suit Stiles could ever imagine. A pair of white shoes to match sat wrapped up carefully in an inconspicuous brown box at the bottom of the wardrobe, and a golden cravat pressed neatly was in the tie rack on the inside of the wardrobe door. 

On the dresser next to the wardrobe was a Venetian style full face mask. This too was white, but was decorated with gold piping. Simple, but somehow managing to be more elegant and magical than even the best ballet dancer could ever hope to be. A pair of white silk gloves lay to the left of the mask. The last piece, and possibly the piece that Stiles was most worried about, given his clumsy nature, was folded carefully on the other side of the mask. A simple strip of white silk that would, for today at least, serve as a blindfold until even after the ceremony was over. 

Stiles had tried to ask why exactly the country was still expected to uphold the bizarre traditions of its ancestors from many, many, many moons ago, but the palace representative just shrugged and continued giving him and his dad instructions and information as to how this whole debacle was to unfold. Although mainly to his dad. After spending a few minutes in Stiles’ presence, the palace advisor seemed just as confused as Stiles as to why the queen thought him an appropriate match for her son – he’s clumsy, has attention-span problems, isn’t the most well-mannered and has absolutely no brain-to-mouth filter. Essentially he’s a PR nightmare. In fact the only thing he has going for him is that his dad is a sheriff. And a degree in super old people hooray.

The alarm clock set by the side of the bed by one of the palace staff (‘oh my god I’m marrying into a family rich enough to have staff’) started ringing in a shrill tone, shocking Stiles so much he managed to fall out of the overly large bed. The door opens and he briefly hears the clicking of heels before promptly groaning.

“Lydia it’s six in the morning can’t you leave me to have my existential crisis in peace?” Stiles moans, voice muffled from where his face is still planted firmly in the fluffy cream carpet that seemed to be all over every floor in the west wing where he and his guests are housed. The only exception being the corridors, which were tiled in some stone that was apparently significant, but Stiles was too busy freaking out about the fact that he was marrying a goddamn prince to pay attention during his introductory tour. Anyway, if he was really bothered he could always flag one of the staff down and ask. And he wasn’t all that bothered, so he hadn’t asked.

“I don’t understand why you’re not excited. You’re marrying a prince, who is, if I remember correctly from all those pictures you have studiously avoided looking at, extremely handsome. You’re never going to do any better than this Stiles, let’s face it.” Lydia walked around to the side of the bed where Stiles was still flopped on the floor, only his right leg still left on the king sized bed that he had been not-sleeping in last night.

“Gee Lydia, thanks for the vote of confidence. You sure know how to make a guy feel better” he mumbled as Lydia started to pull him up onto the bed by his arms. 

Lydia seemed to be completely ready, even though the torture wasn’t due to start until one, and she wasn’t supposed to leave until ten. It didn’t make sense really, considering that she had tasked herself with getting Stiles looking ship-shape for the nation, enlisting the help of Allison to do god knows what. Even Stiles could see that it wasn’t logical to get ready for an event four hours early.

“Oh honey, I’m not going to the wedding in this outfit,” Lydia scoffed. “I’m in a palace; I’ve got to look nice walking around. And yes you were talking out loud.” Stiles groaned again, leaning his head on Lydia’s shoulder, her silky red hair smelling of strawberries. She promptly patted his face and got up, leaving Stiles to flop face first into his pillow. “Come on Stiles, we’ve got to get you ready for your big day.”

Stiles mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “too early” as Lydia walks over to the old wooden door that marked the entrance to his room.

“Shower Stiles” Lydia commanded in a tone that was much too cheerful for this hour of the day. “And don’t forget to shave. We can’t have such a gorgeous prince as Derek Hale getting stubble burn now, can we? Imagine what the press would say. They’d have a field trip. I’ll be back with Allison in half an hour, and don’t turn on the TV; you’ll only work yourself up again.”

With that, Lydia made her way back into the corridor, heels clicking on the stone floor as she went, leaving Stiles alone once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the first chapter was a test chapter, and I have been working on this story since then, it had changed a lot. I recommend you go back and reread the first chapter because there's new detail about where this is set and another 600 words or so. Again, no beta.
> 
> Enjoy

Over in the main wing of the palace, everything was happening. The staff had been awake and busy since the early hours of the morning loading the last of the bouquets of flowers and garlands and lanterns and candles and every other decoration under the sun into vans to be taken the 10 minute drive to the abbey where the ceremony would be held. A white carpet had already been laid down along the aisle that first the prince and his guide, and then the prince’s suitor would be led down by the father, and cameras set up to capture the official footage. There were to be no reporters or unofficial cameras.

By 6am the abbey was almost completely set up, with stand-ins for the participants running through the logistics of the ceremony and doing last minute camera checks and people on ladders triple-checking the rigging for the cameras and the lights. Now, the palace was abuzz with staff scurrying around making sure that everything was in perfect order, ready for the reception after the ceremony.

The kitchen staff had been preparing for what seemed like weeks, practising each piece of every dish until it could be served blindfolded. Full rehearsals of the meals had ensured impeccable timing. Tailors and designers were on hand in case suits or dresses needed adjusting. They could be described as lingering, worrying over each suit or dress they came across. Security had been tripled and teams of the very best bodyguards and special agents were monitoring every entrance and exit and window and wall and were just about everywhere, ready to stamp out any trouble before it started. Flowers and ribbons adorned the palace, dressing up all the area of the palace that would be used by dignitaries and special guests. 

Everybody was excited, and the atmosphere in the palace was completely electric.

Except for one room.

The six o’clock alarm that his mother had personally set the night before came all too soon for HRH Prince Derek Hale who had had a restless night to say the least. He had spent an eternity that in reality lasted only a few minutes tossing and turning in just his favourite black tracksuit bottoms, trying to ignore the red weave bracelet that signalled his engagement around his right wrist, before giving up and reading Tolstoy all night. 

Now he lay in his luxurious and thankfully rather empty king-sized bed, on top of the duvet, worrying about who he might be marrying. He wouldn’t know a name for at least seven hours when whoever it was would be announced to the congregation, and wouldn’t be able to put a face to said name for another few hours after that, since Derek would be blindfolded for most the ceremony, and his partner for even longer. He would feel sorry for his partner-to-be having to stay anonymous for so long, except he was too wound up to feel anything other than an almost paralysing fear for himself. 

His little sister Cora came bounding into his room, not seemingly caring that it was way too early in the morning for any decent human interaction, not that Derek was stellar at human interaction at the best part of the day, but the sentiment was still the same. She was wearing a pair of cream silk pyjamas made up of a vest top and a pair of short shorts that she most definitely should not be wearing around the palace. Or ever. She was too young to wear those kinds of clothes. She would always be too young in Derek’s opinion. She was, after all, his adorable, baby sister.

“Cora please. It’s six in the morning and if you don’t mind I have a book to finish.” Derek grumbled without looking up, still reading the pages of his favourite Russian literature. The text itself was in its original language. Derek had studied it as a child; important for diplomatic relations he was told. He had fallen in love with the language and had carried on learning until he was almost fluent. Now he was able to enjoy some of the great classics in the language they were intended to be read in. 

“Pretending like it’s not happening won’t stop it from happening Der” Cora laughed, while Derek grimaced at the pet name that both his sisters seemed to have adopted for him. He thought it came from when Cora was just beginning to speak and couldn’t say his full name so she shortened it and Laura had made sure it had stuck. He took a deep breath to try and steel himself against whatever Cora might say or do to next try and annoy him. “Anyway, you’ve read it something like fourteen times, right? Surely you know the story off by heart.”

“I’m not pretending it’s not happening,” Derek lied through gritted teeth. “I’m merely distracting myself until it does happen. And I still need to finish it, no matter how many times I’ve read it before.”

Cora pulled the inconspicuous-looking grey hardback book from his rough hands and placed it on the carved oak table next to the bed which her brother was currently lying on top of, careful not to lose his place in the book, before climbing onto the bed next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, his dark stubble tickling the top of her head, and her brown locks spreading out over his shoulder.

“Look, I know you’re worried and totally don’t want to do this. I wouldn’t either if I was an anti-social, grumpy and reclusive prince who had no idea who he was marrying and had no experience with people, let alone dating.” Cora playfully nudged Derek’s side with her elbow, before turning to look at him. “But you’re going to be amazing because that’s what you do. When things are falling apart around us, you’re there keeping us strong. I get into all sorts of trouble and you’re always there to help fix it. So you can do this. I know it’s only the rest of your life, but it will do you good to have someone looking out for you, because whoever you’re marrying, they will be looking out for you. Mum wouldn’t have chosen them if she wasn’t sure they’d have your back.”

Derek sighed, closing his eyes slowly, before opening them and turning his head to meet his sister’s warm gaze. “When did you get so wise little sister?” He paused, and then added “But what if they don’t like me?”

“I’ve always been wise. I just chose to ignore it.” Derek huffed a smile. “That’s what I like to see.” Cora patted his bare chest. “And if they don’t like you, they’re going to have to get over that aren’t they. You’re going to be stuck together and you’re going to have to compromise, both of you will.” Cora leaned her head on Derek’s shoulder again. “But you’re going to have to work hard for it. You tend to appear very … hostile to outsiders, and you know that. Try to smile around your partner and maybe they won’t want a divorce straight away.” Cora joked.

Derek put an arm around his little sister and closed his eyes, resting his head back on his memory foam pillow. “I’ll try Cora, I promise. I want this to work, for everyone.”

They lay side-by-side in silence for a few minutes before Cora sat up straight, breaking the almost-peace that had settled over the red-walled room and the anxious bodies inside it.

“Come on now Der, we’ve got a party to get you ready for. I’m pretty sure Laura’s coming in to do your make up or something.” Derek’s eyes widened inexplicably at this, and mouth turned downwards into a scowl. Cora chuckled. “No seriously, I heard her talking to some redhead called Lydia about needing some stage makeup or something because of the lighting. Go on; get in the shower big bro. And don’t forget to shave so that your fiancé doesn’t get stubble burn before he’s even seen your face in person.”

Derek groaned, mumbling something about how nobody was going to see his face, and that it would sweat off underneath the mask anyway, while Cora quickly left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone with his thoughts again. He slowly sat up and reached into the top drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a pair of black socks.

His hands fell into his lap, clutching the ball made of his socks as he bit his lip, worrying about the day ahead. Would his partner like him? What did they look like? Was this person of aristocratic heritage? Was his partner nice? Were they smart? Or funny? Was this person a male or a female? If male, would he even be gay? What would the press say if his partner was male? It wasn’t unheard of for royalty to marry the same sex, but generally not approved because it didn’t carry on the bloodline. There were ways around it, but first Derek had to actually meet his partner before discussing having a family.

He sighed and got up off the bed slowly, socks in hand. Derek padded across the fluffy carpet to the intricately carved oak armoire where the outfit that he would be wearing for the wedding was hanging and opened it.

The suit itself was quite inconspicuous, a black three-piece suit with a silver cravat to match. The suit was absolutely gorgeous and Derek thought that if all went well later today, it might fast become his favourite suit. He was more nervous about the fact that he would be blindfolded for most of the ceremony with the black silk that was on top of his drawers, next to a pair of black silk gloves and a full-face Venetian styled mask, which was also black, but decorated with silver piping.

Derek had often wondered in the past year about who he would be marrying, whether it was a man or a woman, tall or short, some kind of a war hero. He had no clues at all to who his soon-to-be partner was, except that whoever it was would be someone whom his mother deemed worthy. In Derek’s opinion though, this was enough, and perhaps the only reason why he hadn’t flat out said no and renounced his claim to the throne or something like that. He trusted his mother’s judgment completely, and if she said this person was good enough to be part of their family, then so be it.

In some ways, Derek couldn’t wait for today because he would finally know who it was that he had been he had been wondering about for the last year. But then again, he was also petrified that he wouldn’t like his partner, or vice versa.

He had been told however, about his partner, that whoever it was hadn’t been allowed to wear the red weave that was currently wrapped around Derek’s wrist in case their identity became known. Normally, couples to be married would wear a matching red weave on their right wrist to show that they were spoken for. It symbolised the blood of the other person, and that their life now belonged to another. 

That was just one of the many strange traditions that Derek would face today. The worst being that any heir to the throne should be married by the time he or she was 30, and Laura had renounced her claim to the throne when she married, spinning out some political nonsense that Derek had seen to be a lie straight away. Which meant that Derek was heir apparent and was to be married off in a traditional arranged marriage. At least he wasn’t going to be blindfolded until midway through the reception, unlike his fiancé. He shuddered to think about what he would do if he were in that position.

Derek closed the doors to the armoire again and took a deep breath, before going to shower and face his fate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I have no beta but myself

**[Camera pans the studio before cutting to a headshot of the newsreader at her desk]**

“Good morning, I’m Miranda Davis, welcome to the 11 o’clock news. In the news today: Prince Derek of Tulwell will finally wed his mystery suitor in the Brigminster Abbey at 1 o’clock this afternoon. Crowds have been lining the processional route between the palace and the Abbey since yesterday morning, waiting to catch a glimpse of the groom and his fiancé. Chris Hepworth is at Roseward Parade with them now. Good morning Chris”

**[Cut to reporter on Roseward Parade. Behind him are thousands of spectators dressed in red, white and blue, the country’s colours, and barriers have been draped with the national flag]**

“Good Morning Miranda.”

**[Cut back to the studio]**

“Chris. It’s looking quite packed out there.”

**[Cut to panning shot of the cheering crowds lining Roseward Parade]**

“You can say that again.”

**[Reporter laughs. Cut to newsreader laughing in the studio]**

“What’s the atmosphere like out there?”

**[Cut to Roseward Parade]**

“It’s electric Miranda. Everyone here has been here for at least a day already; it seems they have each formed a sense of camaraderie with the camper next to them. Some of these people have been out here since the early hours of yesterday morning, hoping to catch the first glimpse of the groom and his mystery fiancé. All anybody can talk about is who the next royal is.

“Giant screens have been put up all along the Parade so people here won’t miss out on all of the action of the big reveal, even though we won’t be able to put a face to the name until whoever it is goes out onto the balcony with Prince Derek to watch the fly-past, where the famed first kiss is traditionally supposed to take place. Either way, these guys are so excited they’ve been cheering everything, haven’t you?”

**[Camera pans to huge crowds along Roseward Parade who start cheering wildly]**

“Even the police have been getting in on the action starting up Mexican waves on either side of the parade. The police are out in force today making sure that the procession and the ceremony go off without a hitch. Just on the Parade there are police on foot, on motorcycles, in vans, and on horses. It’s quite the spectacle. St. John’s Ambulance volunteers are on hand with bottles of water to make sure that nobody gets dehydrated on this wonderful sunny day. A band has started playing somewhere in the distance, I’m not quite sure where about in the city but it’s close enough for us to hear it over here and to even have a sing-a-long while we wait for the procession to start. If you happen to know where the band is, send in a message to our website, or contact us on Facebook or twitter. We’d love to hear from you. Details will be on the screen soon”

**[Reporter moves toward crowd as contact details start rolling along the bottom of the screen]**

“As for the happy campers themselves, some of them have come from the other side of the world.”

**[Reporter holds microphone to a woman of Hispanic origin waving the Brighland national flag]**

“Hello”

“Hello Chris”

“What’s your name?”

“Rosa Marinez”

“And where are you from Rosa?”

“Argentina.”

“So what are you doing all the way over here?”

“I love the royal family in Brighland and I am marrying next year also so I come to get idea for my marriage.”

“Wow. Well good luck with your wedding Rosa.”

**[Reporter moves along to a family of four]**

“So who are you guys and where are you from?”

“I’m Steve Nack and this is my wife Julie, and our kids Ben and Lucy. We’re from New Zealand.”

“That’s an awfully long way to come. How long have you been camped out here then?”

“Almost 27 hours now.”

“Blimey. So kids”

**[Reporter crouches down to give microphone to the children]**

“How old are you?”

“I’m 8 and a half and Lucy has just turned 7.”

“And Ben what are you looking forward to most?”

“I want the prince to marry someone nice and then - and then they will live happy ever after like in th-the fairy tales”

“And what about you Lucy? What are you most excited for?”

“Cake”

**[The reporter, the family, and the other campers around them laugh]**

“Good answer Lucy.”

**[The reporter stands up and starts reading from cue cards handed to him]**

“If anyone else has come from other places around the world, send us a message. Details of how to contact us are on the screen now. Twitter user RoyalWeddingLove tweeted us a picture of her whole town, who have come together to have one big street party to celebrate. She also said that they have all bought extension leads and are bringing as many TVs onto the street as possible. That’s quite some dedication there.”

“Jenna on Facebook has posted to say that the band is in Selwood Park, where the event is being screened to thousands, entertaining spectators before the coverage starts. She also says it’s packed and that everyone seems to have wonderful picnics with them. There’s even a picture of, I’m assuming Jenna, with a life-size cardboard cut-out of Prince Derek.”

**[The reporter starts walking down the red-brick paved road]**

“Although we don’t know much about the wedding today, we do know that the masks have been hand-crafted by the Verducci family in Venice, who have long had connections with the Brighland royal family. There have also been presents of traditional Murano glass gifted to the couple by the island. The wedding rings that will be exchanged in the ceremony have been made by the royal jewellers but the designs have been kept secret. Prince Derek’s suit has been designed by Clarence Hargreave, who has designed many suits for royals and celebrities alike.

“The prince’s fiancé will be driven to the Abbey from Hertford Palace in the Queen’s own Rolls-Royce Phantom IV. Built in 1951, there were only 18 of these ever made, and exclusively for royalty or heads of state. Traditionally, the car is only ever occupied by HRH Queen Talia, but today she has given her permission for her soon to be in-laws to use it.

“The prince will arrive in the back of a Rolls-Royce Phantom VI with his sister Laura, who renounced her claim to the throne shortly before she married three years ago due to a stress-related illness. Laura Hale will be the prince’s Guide. The job of the Guide in this traditional ceremony is to help the bride or the groom through the ceremony without a problem as they will be blindfolded. Laura will walk His Royal Highness down the aisle, assist in the giving of the rings, and act as his eyes until Archbishop Finstock takes off his blindfold after the rings have been exchanged.

“It is rumoured that the fiancé’s Guide will not be the father as would usually be expected. We do know that the father will ride in the car with the prince’s partner and will lead the partner down the aisle but inside sources have suggested at the Guide being different once inside the abbey.

“Either way it looks set to be the biggest event of the decade. As for the processional order, the prince’s car will be the first to leave the palace sometime after 12 o’clock, whilst his fiancé will be the last to arrive, the car supposedly pulling up outside the church shortly before 1 o’clock when the ceremony is due to start.

“Until then, I’m going to enjoy the atmosphere out here for a while longer. Back to you in the studio Miranda”

**[Camera pans the crowd, who are now cheering. Cut back to the newsreader in the studio]**

“You do that Chris. Alright, our next story …”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing the epilogue now so updates should become more regular. There will be 8 chapters plus the epilogue, and unless otherwise stated, none of them will be beta'd. Enjoy

It was almost time for Derek’s family to leave. His whole family had congregated in the foyer, dressed in their Sunday best, waiting for him to come down. He took a deep breath before picking up the mask and the silk piece and making his way to the top of the ornate marble staircase that overlooked the foyer.

“Oh Derek” his mother sighed, turning away from the conversation to look at her only son. “You look so handsome. Come on down, give us a twirl.”

Derek grimaced as silence swept across the room, the sound of shoes on steps echoing through the air. When he reached the bottom he could see all his family and closest friends with loving smiles on their face. Even though he hated showing affection at the best of times, being able to see just how much his family were supporting him meant a lot, and made him feel slightly less nervous.

“Derek you look gorgeous” cooed Cora as she moved to hug him. “Whoever you marry is probably going to faint when they see you. Man if only I could find a guy that good looking. Also you smell really good. Did Laura get you a new cologne?”

Derek nodded, putting his arms around his little sister and rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re too young for boys little sis” he murmured.

“I’m 24 Der and you know it.”

“Yes and you’ll always be too young for a boyfriend.” Laura joined in as Cora let go of Derek. “I can’t believe my baby brother’s going to get married today, and I’ll be there right by your side.” Laura practically flung herself at Derek and he chuckled slightly.

“You had better not mess up today. Maybe I should have chosen Isaac or Erica or Boyd as my Guide.” Derek jibed at the brunette with her arms around his waist and face buried in his neck.

Laura lifted her head to meet Derek’s eyes. “You can trust me with your life, I promise.”

A heavy silence filled the hall as the siblings hugged once more, before the king and queen stepped forward.

“I’m so proud of you son” Derek’s father told him. He was dressed in his military uniform, having served in the RAF as a fighter pilot for several years in his youth. “And I love you so much. I know you wish you didn’t have to do this, but maybe it will be good for you. Your mother and I didn’t get off to the best of starts, remember?”

A chuckle went round the room at this point. Derek’s parents had been brought together in a political alliance between Greece and Chalford. All of the family had heard numerous times of how Talia spent her spare time baking or knitting, and alternated between throwing uncooked dough, freshly baked goods, or knitting needles at her new husband, Phillip Hale.

Talia put an arm around her husband, smiling down at her feet before looking to her son. “I only hope I’ve picked the right person. I’m sure I have but I just want you to be happy darling.”

Derek stepped forward to embrace his mother swiftly. “I’m sure you have. And if not, we’ll make it work. I promise it’ll work out.”

“Your Majesty,” one of the staff announced, addressing the queen. “Your car is ready to leave.” He bowed quickly and left.

Derek’s parents stepped forward to embrace him one last time before he became a married man, and they squeezed him tightly. “Good luck darling,” his mother whispered. Cora joined the hug from behind and Derek let out an involuntary “oof” as he got sandwiched between his family.

“Go on, they’re all waiting for you.” Derek pushed his family away with a small smile. “I’ll be fine, I’ve got Laura with me.”

Talia and Cora picked up their fascinators and put them in place, checking each other’s outfit for one last time to make sure everything was in place, before kissing Derek on his cheeks and leaving. His dad gave him a strong one-armed hug and following out his wife and daughter to their car.

Derek and Laura then went to sit on the chaise longue that sat in the grand foyer. A companionable silence settled over the room while they waited. A little while later, the same staff member that appeared earlier appeared again. Laura stood up straight away, waving her hand to dismiss him before he had even spoken. She then put on her fascinator.

Derek stood up afterwards and handed the mask and silk piece to Laura with a deep breath and trembling hands. “Well here goes” he sighed.

Laura took the silk piece first and turned Derek around. Carefully, she placed it over his eyes and tied it in a knot at the back of his head, making sure it wasn’t too tight, but that the fabric wouldn’t come loose. She then took the mask and placed it over his face, taking Derek’s right hand and placing it on the mask to hold it in place. She tied that too, repeating the checks again to ensure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

“Are you good?” she asked.

A curt “Yes” was all she received in reply.

Derek was stood absolutely still, jaw clenched, and listening out for every sound. He could hear lots of pairs of shoes on stone as people moved about the palace, both upstairs and in the foyer. He could hear someone directing others as to where to put the flowers or something “left a bit” “right a bit”. His ears were straining to hear every little detail to make up for not being able to see a thing. 

Derek held out his right hand, which Laura took with her right, placing her left on the small of his back, and he startled a bit at the contact.

“Let’s go” Laura said in a quiet voice.

Derek started to walk slowly, trusting Laura to steer him, and she did. She carefully guided him down the steps to where the Rolls-Royce was waiting for him outside, and where the rest of his family were waiting by the Jaguar XJ Portfolio SWB that would take them to the abbey.

“Good luck Derek.” Derek heard his family call as Laura helped him into their mother’s car that they would ride the short journey in.

Derek fumbled about for the seatbelt in the dark when he felt the cushion next to him depress and Laura reaching over to help him.

“I hate this. I feel so useless.” He mumbled, crossing his arms.

Laura patted his arm, taking his hand in hers. Derek was grateful for the contact, because it meant he could be connected to what was going on around him. “I know you do. I can’t imagine what it feels like, but I’m going to be right there with you. Now look sharp for the cameras. We’ll be setting off any minute now and I’ve heard that the reporters are everywhere today. Not surprising though – they all want to see you looking dapper.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth lifted slightly underneath his mask, and he sat up straight like he had been taught.

“Your Royal Highness’?” the chauffeur spoke. Derek tensed slightly at the sudden sound and instantly relaxed again. “We will be departing in a minute, sir. I was instructed to warn you when I need to turn the engine on.”

“Thank you Jeffery,” Laura replied. “That’s much appreciated.”

Derek liked Jeffery, he was an amicable fellow, and was nearly always his chauffeur for public events, although he still insisted on using the appropriate terms of address, no matter how many times Derek told him otherwise.

“Derek” he grumbled. “I told you to call me Derek.” The engine roared to life, but thanks to Jeffery, Derek was prepared and didn’t start like he otherwise would have done.

“Of course, sir,” Jeffery replied, with a slight teasing edge to his voice.

Derek was sure he did it on purpose – to be an annoying git. He felt the car jolt slightly as it started to move, pulling out of the long driveway and into the public view. Laura squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The 20 minute ride through the city, going slowly down the processional route and no doubt followed by helicopters and police on motorbikes and whatever else was spent in a companionable silence inside the car. Outside, Derek could hear cheering as they went past crowds of spectators lining the route. Not once did Laura’s hand leave his own gloved hand.

Derek was starting to panic slightly, his nerves starting to get the better of him after too long in silence and in the dark. He was starting to think that the journey would never end, and wanted desperately to be able to see where they were. Thankfully, Jeffery spoke up.

“Sir, Ma’am, we are arriving at the gates to the abbey. We will be turning in and pulling up in just under two minutes.”

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, only noticing now that the cheering was sounding slightly more distant as they drove past the mark that the public weren't allowed beyond.

“Talk to me. Inside the church I mean.” Derek said to Laura, but the inflection turning it into a request. “We’ll be waiting there for at least another twenty minutes and I want to know what’s going on.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll tell you as soon as anyone appears. It might be pretty boring though because everyone but the cars behind us have arrived.” Laura replied.

Derek nodded and felt the car slow to a stop. His heart skipped a beat or two and his pulse started speeding up. He was feeling slightly clammy underneath the mask, and was hoping with all his might that it would be off soon.

“Sir, Ma’am, we have arrived.” Jeffery announced, as he turned off the engine, and got out of the car. Derek heard the door to his right open and let Laura’s hand go. She had to get out of the car in order to help him out. The door shut again.

The next few moments were tense. He was in the car on his own, in the dark, with no idea what was happening around him. The door to his left opened and a hand found his.

“Turn towards me,” he heard Laura say softly, and he followed her commands. “Now step down slowly … that’s it. Mind your head, there we go.”

Thankful to have both feet on the ground again, he stood still, waiting for Laura to take up her position on his right. He held out his right hand for her again, she taking it with her right, and this time he anticipated the hand on his back. It felt more natural this time and he allowed himself to forget about everything for a few precious moments and be guided by his older sister.

After a few steps walking she spoke again. “There’s a step coming up right here, just one. That’s it.”

They fell into a sort of silence, with Laura breaking it to give a whispered commentary on what was happening.

“We’re entering the abbey now,” she told him and suddenly his heart rate spiked again. Derek had to think extra carefully about where he was putting his feet, in order not to trip up in front of everyone. He was aware that he would not only be the sole attention of a few thousand people, but also national and even worldwide television.

“Breathe Der,” Laura reminded him. She stopped him with a few words, he assumed at the doors. Derek focused on his breathing. There wasn’t going to be music playing as he walked down the carpeted aisle, but he did think he was going to be announced to the congregation.

The abbey was quiet, but not silent. Those who had received a silver invite were chattering quietly in the pews, mindful that they were in a church. The atmosphere in the church was almost crackling with anticipation, and he could feel it from his position at the back of the abbey.

From just in front of him, he heard a stick banging on the stone floor to the side of the carpet. “Would the congregation please stand to welcome His Royal Highness, Derek, Prince of Tulwell, and his guide, Her Royal Highness, Princess Laura”

Derek heard shuffling as a few thousand people got to their feet and turned to face the back of the abbey, and suddenly he was thankful for the mask. It meant that he couldn’t see just how many faces would be out there watching him, and they couldn’t see how flustered he was.

Then everything went silent. Derek felt Laura’s hand nudge his back and he stepped forward, slightly out of kilter with his sister. However they soon found their rhythm together as they started the long walk down to the alter where Archbishop Finstock would conduct the service. Where he would finally hear the name of his intended. Where he would be married by somebody.

The walk seemed to last forever. It in fact lasted about 4 minutes. Which is still a long time to be walking in silence with thousands of pairs of eyes on you. Derek had been told beforehand that the aisle was approximately 300 feet long.

Derek just kept walking, not thinking about how silent the abbey was, or what he was about to do. He would keep walking until Laura stopped him, thankful that the carpet muffled the sound of their shoes that would otherwise echo through the large space.

Eventually she did, by tapping his hand with her fingers and pulling him back ever so slightly. He heard the stick on tapping the floor again, the signal for everyone to sit and resume chatting again.

Laura was whispering in his ear about what everyone was wearing, who look good, and who was a fashion faux-pas. Apparently some of the women were wearing absolute monstrosities on their head, in an apparent attempt to outdo each other in who could have the biggest or the weirdest or the downright ugliest fascinator.

It wasn’t long before Laura’s stream of consciousness stopped when she told him, “Cora will wait here with you briefly Derek. I have to talk to someone.”

Derek nodded as he felt Cora’s hands replace Laura’s in his and on his back.

“Alright there big brother?” he heard.

Derek nodded again, not trusting his voice to hold out. His throat had gone very dry now that he was in the abbey and was standing at the altar waiting for his partner-to-be. It meant that there wasn’t long until his fiancé arrived and the ceremony started.

“You looked stunning walking down that aisle there. I bet every woman in the country, and even some of the men are extremely jealous of your fiancé right now.” Cora told him, nudging his shoulder slightly.

Derek was curious as to whom Laura was talking to, but he could ask later. When he was actually able to speak, because right now he was pretty sure he physically couldn’t. He hoped he would have regained the ability by the time he came to say his vows, otherwise that would be mortifying.

“Laura’s coming back so I’m going to pass you back over, ok?” Cora said soothingly into his ear.

Derek nodded as he was handed back to Laura and she assumed her previous position. He wondered if the archbishop was there yet. Derek supposed he was because those in the procession were supposed to arrive last. He was probably sitting on a chair on the altar waiting for Derek’s fiancé to arrive, just like everybody else in the entire universe.

That may have been a hyperbole, but Derek was getting really nervous, and the noise levels just kept rising. Laura was still speaking in his ear, but suddenly it didn’t feel quite as reassuring as before, now that he knew he was minutes away from his own wedding.

Laura paused mid-sentence. “You’ll be wonderful,” she told him. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve been through the whole wedding thing and I came out the other side completely unscathed.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, and Laura started to speak when he heard a sound cutting through the noise in the abbey.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Silence.

“Would the congregation please stand to welcome the groom, Mr Stiles Stilinski, and his father, Sheriff John Stilinski.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished the story (apart from editing the last 2 chapters), so I will be posting every Tuesday. Enjoy!

Stiles was bouncing off the royal blue walls. He was dressed in his white suit, wearing his gloves, and had only his dad for support. His dad who happened to be sitting on the sofa in his full sheriff’s uniform seeming not to be at all nervous that his only son was marrying a goddamn royal. The rest of his friends and Melissa had left to go to the abbey over an hour ago. Why all the guests had to be at the church 2 freaking hours early Stiles had no idea, and he was cursing whoever decided on that stupid rule because he was going out of his mind without Scott or someone to talk to.

His dad kept telling him “Calm down son, you’re going to ruin your suit” or “you’re going to give me a headache at this rate” or “sit down you’re making me nervous” or giving him some other piece of completely and utterly useless advice.

No Stiles could not calm down. Stiles was marrying an honest-to-god actual prince. Who happens to be one of the most attractive people ever. Stiles is a completely clumsy and unattractive person with no brain to mouth filter and could not for one iota ever be considered a suitable addition to the royal family. As much as Stiles would like to marry one of the most handsome and beautiful (and did he mention gorgeous?) people in the entire universe, Stiles was sure that Hottie Hale, as Stiles tried not to call him in his head, was going to hate him.

Which was why Stiles absolutely, most definitely could not calm down for one moment.

He paced the marble flagstone floor of the foyer of the west wing of the palace again, before sitting down on the deep purple velvet couch next to his dad for about half a minute, and then got up to pace the room again, his shoes echoing throughout the tall room. His dad just groaned, head bowed and hands clasped.

Stiles wished that Scott was still with him. He would probably just talk about some game or other that was coming out or his work with Deaton and all those adorable cute puppies that he spent his time cuddling. Scott would know what to say to distract him.

Before they had all left, Stiles and his dad had gathered in the foyer with them all for final good luck messages and hugs and other things. Lydia had stepped forward to hug him, looking like a goddess as usual, shoved her nose into his neck and apparently judged him unsuitable for the event. She pulled out a darkly coloured bottle of cologne, assured him it wasn’t Jackson’s, and sprayed it on his neck. Although why she had men’s cologne in her bag that wasn’t for Jackson was an absolute mystery. Especially considering she always wore the same perfume which came in a bottle with flowers on it. Stiles made a mental note to ask about that later. You know, after he was married.

When Allison inspected him, she tousled his hair some more. Lydia had put Allison in charge of hair when they were dressing him and getting him ready, but it seems she felt the need to improve on what she had done earlier. She ‘hmm’ed and then stepped back and put one arm around Scott’s waist.

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure why his hair needed to be so ‘artfully tousled’ as Lydia had described it because his face was going to be hidden under a mask, which happened to cover some of his hair. That, and also no one would be paying attention to his hair. They would be paying more attention to the fact that he was marrying Brighland’s grumpiest royal, as he was crowned by Talk! Magazine. And also Brighland’s hottest royal, according to many, many, many magazines.

When it was Melissa’s turn to say her good luck messages, she predictably adjusted his cravat, and got all watery-eyed. She told Stiles that she was proud of him, and that he was just as much her son as Scott was, and that made Stiles want to cry a little bit as well. Stiles had always thought of Melissa as a second mother, ever since his mum had died when he was little. 

“Dad?” Stiles asked, still pacing the room.

“Yes son,” his dad grunted in reply.

“How long until we leave because I am going out of my mind, I mean I just kinda want to get this over with because the waiting is horrible. I mean I know I don’t want to get married and all but let’s face it, Derek Hale is hot and at least if I’ve gotta marry someone then he should be hot right? Oh my god. Is Derek even gay? Or bi? What if he hates me? He’s gonna hate me I can just tell. Why did I say yes? Why?”

Stiles flopped down dramatically onto the couch and put his head in his hands, gasping for breath as he started to have a panic attack.

“Focus on your breathing Stiles. Come on, look at me” he heard his dad say, feeling his hands on Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles looked up slowly with wide, terrified eyes. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. His dad was crouched in front of where he was sitting on the sofa. John took Stiles’ hands, and placed them on his shoulders, before replacing his own hands on his sons’ shoulders.

“That’s it. Now breathe with me. In. And out. Breathe in. And breathe out. Good, keep doing that.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Stiles’ breathing was back to a normal rate, and he had stopped panicking. Well, as much as could be hoped for in a situation this stressful.

“Stiles. I know this is a terrifying thing you’re doing, and I am so proud of you because of it. You have so much courage to be able to even contemplate doing what you’re about to do. I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

Stiles ducked his head slightly under the praise to avoid eye contact with his dad. He never was fond of the serious talks, but he let it continue anyway.

“I know that your mum would be proud of you too. Our boy is all grown up and what a fine young man he is.” John laughed. 

“Is this conversation over because it’s going to get awkward pretty quickly” Stiles tried to joke, but the emotion in his voice showed through as his eyes started to well with the memory of his mother. The silence that rang in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“I know son, I just … I just want to tell you I love you, and I’m proud of you. I don’t tell you that enough” his dad said, sitting back beside his son, one arm round his shoulder. Stiles leaned in to his dad’s touch grateful for the support.

“Sirs?” one of the palace staff had entered the foyer quietly. The Stilinski duo looked up. “The car is ready to leave. If you would make your way out to the car, please.” He bowed his head and left promptly.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen Stiles. I’m going to put this on,” he gestured to the blindfold and mask that were lying on the carved ebony wood table next to the couch, “and you’re going to go out there, and you’re going to do what you do best, which is be yourself. If he hates you for it, well so did Jackson, but you’ve worked around that. Mostly. What I’m saying is that given time, he’ll come to love you. Just like I do. You were a right little shit as a child.” They both laughed at that. “First things first though, you need to put this on.” He dug out the red weave bracelet from the pocket in the inside lining of his suit, and held it out to his son. “You want help with it?”

Stiles held out his left hand.

“Your other right, son” John chuckled. Stiles quickly retracted the hand he had just put out, and replaced it with his right hand.

His dad tied the bracelet around his son’s wrist before standing up and picking up the piece of white silk.

Then he held out a hand to his son. “You ready kid?”

“Nope,” Stiles said as he took his dad’s hand and stood up as well. “But I never will be so this is the best I’m going to get, right.”

“Right. Now turn around.” 

Stiles did as instructed while his dad carefully tied the fabric around his head, making sure it wasn’t too tight, but wasn’t going to come loose. Then he did the same with the mask.

“Here goes nothing” Stiles murmured from underneath the mask, turning to walk towards the door but missing completely and walking into his dad. “Oof.”

“You’re supposed to let me lead you” Stiles’ dad sighed. “You never were one for following others though.”  
The sheriff put his right hand on the small of his son’s back and gently leads him towards the door, helping him down the steps with only a minor stumble. Thankfully no suits were ruined in the journey to the car.

Once they were settled in the car, Stiles tried to focus his energies into not jumping at every little sound. Stiles sat uneasily, consciously trying not to wreck the car in his blind panic because it was a Rolls-Royce Phantom IV that had been loaned to them by Queen Talia and there were only 18 ever made. He wasn’t sure whether he was currently more nervous about not ruining the queen’s car or marrying the queen’s son.

His dad took hold of his hand and squeezed it a couple of times when Stiles was starting to feel a little too disconnected from reality. It was extremely unnerving losing his eyesight. His ears kept straining to hear every little detail to compensate for the lack of a major sense. He knew there would be cameras zooming in on the car and he knew that he needed to at least look relaxed but he couldn’t, not even with the mask covering his face.

In a few minutes, the car would pull up at Brigminster Abbey and Stiles would be revealed to the nation as the next royal. He would be reunited with Scott, but of course he wouldn’t be able to see him. Scott was Stiles’ Guide. His dad was going to walk him down the aisle; that was Stiles’ only stipulation, but Scott would be there for the main part of the wedding, until Derek took over as his Guide. It was like a game of catch today, with his dad, Scott and Derek throwing the ball, and Stiles being the ball. So that was a bad analogy, sue him. His brain was a bit preoccupied with trying to prevent a major meltdown about the fact that he was getting married to royalty on national television.

Stiles felt a hand clamp down on his leg and he jerked out of his thoughts.

“You were jiggling your knee,” his dad told him by way of explanation in a soothing tone. “You need to relax.”

Just hearing his dad’s voice was bringing him out of his head and making him feel slightly more calm and ready. So he said “tell me about the weather dad. I don’t care what you say actually, but talk to me.” Then he admitted in a small voice “it helps.”

After a pause, his dad started talking. “Well it’s sunny outside. A perfect day for camping I’d say. We should do that again sometime. Remember when we used to go camping every other weekend? Sometimes in summer we’d go every weekend and we’d go fishing and hiking and try and see as many animals as we could. Are you favourites still the wolves?”

Stiles nodded, smiling underneath his mask, despite everything else.

“I always liked the deer more to be honest. I don’t know why. I think it’s because they were so graceful. They reminded me of your mother a bit. She always liked camping. We used to go camping together before we had you, and half the time we’d just sleep out under the stars and make our own constellations.”

“Sirs? We’re going to pull up outside the abbey in a few moments” the driver told them.

“I guess it’s time then kiddo” the sheriff said, sounding a little bit choked up.

“Time to get hitched. At least it wasn’t a shotgun wedding. And he’s rich. And hot. Like really hot. I wonder what colour his eyes actually are? I think they’re green, but sometimes they look blue or even hazel. I bet his eyes are gorgeous” Stiles blurted out.

Stiles’ dad just laughed as the car pulled up to a stop. The chauffeur opened John’s door first, and Stiles’ dad got out and walked round the back to help Stiles out of the car.

Suddenly his heart rate spiked and as reality caught up with him. His mouth went dry as his dad walked him towards the entrance and slowly up a few steps to the door where everything ahead of him seemed to be buzzing with loud anticipation. They stopped and Stiles wondered why. He had forgotten the entirety of what was supposed to happen next. He couldn’t see a thing and was itching to rip off his mask and see what was going on. Although that would probably be a bad idea because then he’d see how many people were watching. He kept one hand in his dad’s, and one firmly by his side. “Oh my god” Stiles whispered, scared to death about what his future entailed.

Then he heard three taps on stone with what he assumed was a large stick and everything ahead of him went silent. That was unsettling.

“Would the congregation please stand to welcome the groom, Mr Stiles Stilinski, and his father, Sheriff John Stilinski.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter you've all been waiting for! (Or at least the chapter I've been most excited to post)
> 
> Once again un-beta'd. If you enjoy it, please feel free to drop me a comment. It makes my day :)

The orchestra burst into life, breaking the silence that had echoed around the abbey, playing William Walton’s ‘Crown Imperial’, as Stiles Stilinski was walked down the 300ft long white carpeted aisle by his father. The congregation all craned their necks to get the best view of the pair, whilst still trying to appear civilised and respectful, mindful of the cameras that were broadcasting the whole event nationwide and even further across the globe.

Nobody said a word. The orchestra played its bouncy tune as the soon-to-be husband to Prince Derek somewhat inelegantly made his way to the altar, clutching at his father’s hand for guidance and reassurance. There was a slight tremor to each of his steps, the only discernable sign that the boy was nervous about the event that was starting to unfold.

Waiting for him was his prince. Derek had been turned around by Laura, and his heart was hammering in his chest, and it was so loud to his ears that he thought for sure that Laura must be able to hear it, even over the orchestra. He was itching to take off his mask and blindfold to catch even the tiniest glimpse of the man, Stiles. What kind of a name was Stiles anyway? Derek didn’t even know how old his almost-husband was.

Laura squeezed his hand as they stood there patiently, waiting for the pair to complete their walk and for the orchestra to finish playing. The abbey was laid out in such a way that it meant Stiles wouldn’t come into view until he reached the very end of the aisle, as most of it was around a corner. It probably also meant that Laura hadn’t seen her brother-in-law yet either.

Suddenly he felt the air around him shift, and heard Laura breathe in sharply. It sent shivers of nerves down Derek’s spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He listened out extra hard for anything wrong. Then he felt his sister’s warm breath on his ear and heard her whisper “he’s almost here. Good luck Der.”

Derek’s throat was dry as a desert and he knew that if his mask was taken off now, he would be as pale as a ghost. It wasn’t much longer until he heard a pair footsteps coming up to his left. That would be Stiles’ Guide. Laura had mentioned while they were waiting that his fiancé was being walked down the aisle by someone who wasn’t his Guide. It wasn’t unusual as such, but it normally only happened in cases where the person who would be their Guide wasn’t physically able. He wondered if this was the case with Stiles’ father. Although the herald did say he was a Sheriff, so unlikely.

Then he heard two more pairs of feet coming towards him. This time they didn’t come from the side, but from in front of him. Stiles and his father had finally reached the altar. There were more footsteps as the person to the side of him moved towards the pair, and Derek assumed that Stiles was being handed over to his Guide ready for the ceremony to start.

The orchestra finished shortly after all the footsteps stopped and he heard three taps from the back of the abbey.

“Mr Scott McCall, Guide to Mr Stiles Stilinski,” a voice rung out. “Would the congregation please remain standing for the Archbishop Finstock.”

Derek was turned back around by Laura while the sound steps echoing on the hard wood surface in front of him heralded the Archbishop Finstock rising to greet the congregation.

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the presence of these witnesses, to join together Derek Hale and Stiles B-Stilinski in holy matrimony …”

He droned on for a while longer, preaching about the sacred nature of marriage. Derek was only really half paying attention. The other half was focused on not freaking out. When it came to the declarations, he was first. He said “I do” in all the right places, trying his hardest to project his voice like he had been taught in his elocution lessons, and then listened intently because it was Stiles’ turn next. It would be the first time that Derek hears his voice, and would get any sort of indication of what his partner was like, and he wanted to cherish every moment, especially as he couldn’t see him.

When his fiancé’s first cue came, Derek was holding his breath with anticipation, and the silence around the abbey made him think that perhaps other people were too. Then he heard a shaky and rather quiet “I do” from beside him, and he couldn’t help the way his head jerked ever so slightly. He had a beautiful, soft voice, that sounded quite young, and Derek wanted to hear more of it. He savoured every little moment that he heard his partner talk, smiling slightly to himself underneath his mask, and feeling strangely reassured that Stiles was clearly just as nervous as he was.

After the declarations followed something called the ‘Collect’. Derek just followed his cues. Said Amen in the right places and generally did what had been rehearsed. The readings and the sermon were next, and there was a quick scuffle from behind him as the congregation were asked to sit. Laura led him carefully and patiently to the left side where some chairs had been set out for them, knowing the opposite him on the right were chairs for Stiles and his Guide.

After a long, long time of listening to the Archbishop droning on and on about something that Derek was sure had nothing to do with church or marriage or anything related, they were standing again to sing their first hymn, ‘Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer’. As Derek was standing at the altar again, he could hear Stiles trying to sing along next to him and was encapsulated by his voice. Neither of them could see the order of service that had the lyrics on, but Derek had been told to at least familiarise himself with the hymn, and he guessed that Stiles had done the same.

After the hymn finished, the congregation sat behind him, and it was time to say their vows. Laura and Stiles’ Guide, Scott, were to place Stiles’ hand in Derek’s for this. Even though they were both wearing gloves, it would be the first time they would make contact. Derek was sure that Stiles would be able to feel how much his hands were shaking and was slightly embarrassed by that.

Regarding the actual vows, as far as Derek was aware, neither he nor Stiles were changing their vows, as some couples did. Instead they just repeated each line after Finstock as he said “I, Derek Hale, take you, Stiles Stilinski, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part; according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow.”

After that, Stiles repeated the vows, and they let go of each other’s hands as they had rehearsed. Separately of course, as they hadn’t been allowed to see each other before the service. There was a brief moment where Derek was on his own again before Laura picked up his hand and turned Derek to face her. Derek held out both of his hands to her and she took off his gloves. He knew from the run through that Stiles and Scott would be doing the same thing next to him. They both needed their gloves off for the giving of rings.

While Derek repeated the necessary words, Laura placed the platinum ring in his fingers and guided his hand towards Stiles’ left hand. Between Laura and Scott helping, Derek found Stiles’ third finger and slid the band on, taking his time to feel the skin beneath his fingers. Stiles’ hands felt so smooth in comparison to his own. 

There was a brief interlude before a ring was being placed on his left hand with shaky fingers, Stiles’ voice ringing out clear across the silent abbey. Derek’s ring was made of zirconium and carved around the central part of the band of black metal were a series of Celtic markings, including his family’s insignia, the triskelion.

Archbishop Finstock then proclaimed them married, and Derek felt a pit of nerves growing in the bottom of his stomach. Earlier this morning, Derek couldn’t wait for this moment to come, but now he wasn’t so sure. Finstock was just about to untie his blindfold, which would mean he would be able to see again, but he would also be able to see everybody staring at him. And they would be able to see exactly how nervous he was.

He felt hands on the back of his head and he placed both hands to his mask ready to catch it when it fell after the ribbon was untied. Once it was off he held it out and Laura took it from his hands. Then the hands at the back of his head were untying the piece of black silk covering his eyes. That fell away into his hands and he was left looking straight at his husband, briefly unable to do anything, blinking a few times to adjust to the light.

Laura carefully took the blindfold from his hands and left his side to sit with the rest of his family. Derek looked at his husband again. He was about the same height as Derek, but skinnier. He was clad in an identical suit to his, only in white and silver. Derek could see a few tufts of brown hair sticking out around his mask. Standing there in front of him, Stiles looked a vision of elegance and beauty, and almost ethereal.

Derek stepped forward slowly, and Scott stepped back. Now that he had his sight back, he had to take over as Stiles’ Guide until later. He was supposed to take the hand offered to him, but instead his instincts kicked in and he went in for a hug. Derek wrapped his arms around his husband and pulled him in close, resting his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles smelt amazing. There was something sweet about how he smelt, cinnamon maybe, and it reminded Derek of warm winter’s evenings curled up around the fire with his family. He hoped that it wouldn’t take too long for Stiles to feel like he was part of Derek’s family. He felt Stiles tense for a brief moment, before warm arms wrapped around his waist and a masked face dropped down onto his own shoulder.

Derek wasn’t sure how long they stayed entwined like that, but eventually he lifted his head, and stood to face the altar again, taking hold of his husband’s left hand, unable to stop himself from touching the ring he had placed there just moments ago.

Archbishop Finstock started talking again, blessing the marriage. After that, a second hymn was sung. This time it was ‘Love Divine, All Loves Excelling’. Following on from that were the prayers and the dismissal. Derek made sure to answer with all the correct responses, especially now that the cameras would definitely be able to pick up when he didn’t. But in reality, he was itching to get out of the church and to the car that he and Stiles would go back to the palace in. He wanted to say something to Stiles, alone. He wasn’t sure what, but he just wanted some privacy.

Thankfully, Finstock didn’t keep them for too much longer, and soon the orchestra was striking up to play the last hymn – ‘Jerusalem’ by William Blake. It was one of Derek’s favourites as a child, and he smiled as he turned Stiles around and guided him back up the aisle where Jeffery would be waiting with the car he arrived in.

Derek had one hand placed on the small of Stiles’ back, and one hand joined with his husband’s. He couldn’t help the small smile that had settled on his face, because even though he didn’t know Stiles yet, he was still proud to call him his husband.

After they got to the palace, there would be a wait of about an hour for all the other guests to arrive before he would get to see Stiles’ face for the first time. He couldn’t wait until that moment.

They reached the back of the abbey and Derek guided Stiles down the few steps to where Jeffery was waiting with a smile on his face, standing with the door open. Derek helped Stiles into the car. His husband flailed about a bit, and Derek chuckled to himself ever so slightly before following him inside. Jeffery shut the door on them and Derek leaned over Stiles to help him put on his seatbelt, before doing his own. Then he placed an arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

“Is this ok?” he asked carefully, his voice sounding a bit hoarse, as he spoke to his husband for the first time outside of the ceremony.

“Yeah” came the smooth voice again, sounding almost contented. “Yeah it’s nice.”

Derek pulled his husband in to his side and Stiles rested his head on his shoulder. Over Stiles’ head, Derek looked out of the window as they drove through the street of the capital city. He wasn’t able to see on his way to the abbey, so he hadn’t seen the streets lined with flags and banners and people dressed in the country’s colours. It was at times like this that he felt proud to be a part of the monarchy, to be the next in line for the throne. It was at times like this that he was ok with his sister abdicating. And hopefully Stiles would still be there with him by the time he was called to succeed his mother on the throne.

He smiled and waved out the window as they got closer to some of the crowds. If he didn’t then the press would start spinning all sorts of tales about an unhappy marriage. Which was completely unnecessary considering he was married to a total stranger, something that could never be considered the basis for a happy marriage, at least not straight away. But somehow Derek wasn’t as nervous as he was about him and Stiles hating each other. Maybe it was just relief that the ceremony was over and done with and now they only had the reception and a few other small public appearances before they could leave for their house in Fairway, but he felt comfortable with Stiles, and he thought that Stiles felt the same way about him. His voice and his scent seemed to soothe him in a way that nothing else had ever done before.

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles asked in a soft voice.

“How much I can’t wait for this to be over.” Derek replied in a low tone, pressing his nose into Stiles’ hair so that the cameras wouldn’t be able to pick up his lip movements and then get someone to read them later. It had happened to him before, press had lip-read some of his private conversations with others. Luckily nothing scandalous had come from it, but it had alerted him to the fact that it happened, and he was much more careful in public as a result.

“Were you scared?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Touché” Stiles replied, and the corners of Derek’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m still nervous,” Stiles said in a small voice. “What if your family don’t like me, or I mess up during official engagements?” The next thing Stiles said was almost inaudible over the hum of the engine and the cheers of the crowds. “What if you don’t like me?”

“Don’t you think that’s how I feel?” Derek replied, bringing the hand on Stiles’ shoulder up to rest on the top of his head, as if trying to protect him from his own thoughts, raking his hands through his husband’s impossibly soft hair.

“Yeah but you’re a prince.” Stiles whispered.

“And you’re my husband. Also your father’s a Sheriff which, prince or not, is kind of scary.” Derek tried to joke. Stiles let out a slightly pained noise.

“Oh god. He’s probably going to insist on you coming to dinner and then clean his guns at the table. Why did I let your mum convince me to do this?” Stiles moaned, but the atmosphere in the car had lightened a lot. Derek just chuckled.

“Don’t blame yourself. Nobody can say no to her. It’s a curse.”

They settled into a companionable silence for a few minutes until the palace came into view, at which point Derek told Stiles “we’re nearly there”, and Stiles sat up straight, but still close enough for Derek to keep an arm around his shoulder.

The car pulled into the garage and Jeffery got out and opened the door for Derek, giving him a small congratulatory smile. The tips of Derek’s ears went slightly red as he walked around the back of the Rolls-Royce to help Stiles out of the car, smiling down at his feet.

Stiles managed to trip up over his feet, and not on the steps – on the flat ground, and Derek was hard-pushed to find it anything but endearing. Once inside, they were ushered by some of the staff into a small room along the corridor from the room in which the reception would be held, and Derek would finally get to unmask his husband. They were to wait there until all the guests had arrived.

It shouldn’t be too long, Derek had been told earlier. The route that Derek and Stiles were driven was the processional route so it was going to take longer than normal, and they had to go at a slower speed too. The guests would be arriving via two back routes that would be quicker, although they all left later than the newlyweds.

Derek helped Stiles sit on the chaise longue that was lined against the wall. They had proper couches in the private rooms, like their family lounge, but for the rooms that would be used by dignitaries, the decorative pieces of furniture with ridiculous names were the items of choice. 

Once Stiles was comfortable, Derek sat down next to him, unsure of how close Stiles wanted to be to him. He decided to go with close, but not quite touching. 

“How do you want to play this?” Stiles asked, bringing Derek, who had been chewing his lip and twiddling his ring, out of his nervous stupor.

“Sorry?” he replied.

“When we go in there. I know we’ve only just met and we still haven’t seen each other, so it definitely wouldn’t look real if we’re overly close, but is PDA a complete no-no or should we be hugging a bit. I mean you’re going to have to be kinda close anyway because of the whole I’m-still-blind-folded-and-you’re-my-husband thing but how do you want to play it?” Stiles rambled.

“Uh … I hadn’t thought of that.” Derek said, slightly surprised. Derek didn’t know much about Stiles, in fact he didn’t know anything at all, apart from his name and that he was male. He didn’t even know his age. But that was a surprisingly perceptive comment. Although he shouldn’t be surprised, Stiles was chosen by his mother after all. “Wait, how old are you?” 

“24. But that’s beside the point. The point is; are we going to be sickeningly cute, purely professional, or comfortable with each other in a we’ve-known-each-other-for-years kind of way?” Stiles’ arms had begun to start flailing dangerously, so Derek grabbed both his hands with a chuckle, and placed them in his lap.

“Try not to knock me out with your hands. As you mentioned earlier, you can’t see, which means you can’t tell where your hands are in relation to my head.” Derek said, trying to sound light-hearted, but it came out as more of a growl.

“Alright sourwolf. And I did know where your head was. I could hear you talking.” Derek smiled to himself as he imagined Stiles pouting to himself under his mask. “But just answer the goddamn question.”

“Um, I guess we should probably seem comfortable and happy with each other, like in the car?” Even though it was a suggestion, Derek wasn’t sure that Stiles would have viewed the car journey in the same way as him, so he intoned it like a question.

“Yeah, ok. That was good. I can do that.” Stiles shoulders visibly relaxed and he sunk back into the cushion, his voice slightly less panicked, and Derek wondered why.

He didn’t have time to question it though because at that moment they were called for by one of the palace staff. Derek helped Stiles up, and placed an arm around his husband’s waist, before leading him to the closed doors of the Nash Hall.

In just a few moments, Derek would finally be able to see what his husband looked like, and his stomach filled with butterflies at the notion of finally seeing Stiles’ eyes. He pulled his husband close into his side as someone on the other side of the doors silenced the room, ready to announce their entry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you for all your kind comments on the last chapter. I went to bed feeling happy and woke up happy. Also, sorry this is slightly late guys. I haven't been able to post until now. Once again unbeta'd. I hope you enjoy!

The noise inside the room had stopped and Derek heard his and Stiles’ names being announced to the assembled guests. The grand oak doors with solid brass handles opened and Derek smiled, walking Stiles into the hall, while the guests started clapping. Not everyone who had been at the wedding had been invited back to the reception, only the most important, and friends and family of course.

As they walked through the hall where the guests were stood at long tables, toward the two empty seats at the head table, he spotted his family and smiled. His mother would be sitting on his right hand side, with Stiles to his left, and the Sheriff next to him, with the rest of their family and friends further along. He made eye contact with his mother and slipped her a wider, more genuine smile to let her know that things hadn’t yet gone badly, before replacing it with the face he reserved for public appearances. She seemed to relax slightly, and returned his smile. 

Along his side of the table were his dad and his two sisters, and Isaac, Erica and Boyd on the end, and they were all smiling at him. To the other side of the table were Stiles’ guests. He vaguely recognised Scott from the ceremony, but only just. He was too distracted by the fact that he was finally looking at his husband to pay much attention to the other man. Out of all those on the head table, Scott looked proudest, and it warmed Derek’s heart slightly to know that Stiles had friends and family who cared so much about him.

Derek lead his husband round to the right of the table, passing behind Stiles’ guests who all whispered a quick “congratulation” as they went by, and to their position in the centre of the table, where they would be seated for the meal. He helped Stiles into his seat, before sitting down himself, and placing one hand on top of Stiles’ where it lay on top of the table. 

The guests in the room sat, and conversation started up in the room. Derek shuffled his chair slightly closer to Stiles’, to make it look more convincing he told himself.

“I’m so proud of you,” Talia told him, pulling him in for a hug. Dropping her voice down to a whisper, she added, “What do you think of him?”

“I like him.” Derek said shyly, feeling the tips of his ears heat up. “He seems smart and funny. He makes me feel calm.”

Talia pulled away from the hug slightly so she could look her son in the eyes. “That’s what I thought about your father when I married him.”

Derek looked at her, confused. “But I thought you hated him?”

His mother laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Oh honey. I was furious at my parents for marrying me off, and even more furious that I liked him. I took it out on him. But your father just suffered through it, and I am ever thankful that he did.”

His father turned around from where he had been talking to Laura. “What’s all this talk about me?” he asked.

“We’re not talking about you darling. I’m telling Derek all our state secrets.” Talia winked at Derek, while Cameron regarded his wife with suspicion.

“I don’t think I believe you somehow. Anyway, you did well out there son. I’m looking forward to meeting your new husband properly later. We all are.” Derek’s dad leaned over his wife to give Derek a one armed hug, before they both started talking to Laura.

Derek turned back to Stiles, who was engaged in conversation with his father. “It’s weird dad. He can see me and I can’t see him” Stiles was moaning.

Derek chuckled, the noise vibrating low in his throat. “I think you’ll find that I can’t see you really.”

Stiles jolted slightly at the voice by his ear. “Don’t creep up on me like that. I’m blindfolded. I could accidentally punch you if you startle me too much. Not that that wouldn’t make for great press coverage, mind.”

The sheriff seemed to be slightly embarrassed by his son’s rambling, and was holding his breath as to how the prince would react. Instead of becoming annoyed like John thought he would, Derek just slipped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders.

“My point still stands. I can see that you’re about the same height as me, but skinnier, and you’re wearing a suit identical to mine, only mine is black and silver. You have brown hair. Other than that, I can’t see you. And I’m pretty sure there’s no way you could have avoided pictures of me in the press. So if anything, you’re at an advantage. You know what I look like, but I don’t know what you look like.”

“Shut up and let me complain. Do you know how much of a miracle it is that I haven’t injured anyone yet? It’s huge man. I fall over standing up I’m that clumsy. This” he gestured to his face. “This is a massive breach of health and safety ok. I just want it off.”

“Soon, I promise.” Derek whispered and Stiles leaned back into Derek’s chest.

Derek noticed the sheriff watching them, amused. “Sir” he said, feeling slightly nervous again.

“Welcome to the family son, and call me John.” John smiled and held out a hand for Derek to shake, which he did. “I was going to warn you about how much Stiles likes to talk, but it seems you can handle it ok.”

“Hey! I’m still right here.” Stiles protested, waving his arms about dangerously close to other people’s faces.

“We know.” Derek told him, catching his arms and pinning them down. “You can’t keep quiet long enough for us to forget.” Stiles crossed his arms. “Oh don’t be like that, you know it’s true.”

“Shut up. I’m annoyed that you’re right. Also that you’re hot and I can’t look at you.” There was a momentary pause. “I said that out loud didn’t I.” Stiles muttered.

“Yes son.” Stiles father grunted, before turning away from the conversation to talk to the woman next to him and Scott.

“You really think so?” Derek whispered, cheeks tinted red.

“Uh yeah. Yeah I do.” Stiles told him in a quiet voice. “What colour are your eyes? Only I can never actually tell in the pictures because they keep changing.”

“You’re about to find out it seems. They’re about to start serving the food.” Derek replied.

Derek and Stiles were to be presented with one bread roll between them, and Derek was to take of Stiles’ mask. Then he was to break the bread, and feed part of it to him, before removing the blindfold. At this point, Stiles was to return the favour, and then the food was to be served. And all the guests would be able to see Stiles properly. Including Derek, which made him slightly nervous.

The room hushed to an almost complete silence, save for only a few whispers here and there, as the head of the serving staff walked up toward the newlyweds with a white china plate that held the freshly-baked roll. She presented it to Derek, stood back and curtseyed before leaving again.

All eyes were on the prince as he turned his husband to face him, hands reaching around the back of Stiles’ head to untie the knot in his mask. The knot to be used had been agreed on prior to the ceremony, and Derek had practiced untying it from this position, although he would never admit that. More often than not it was Cora who got roped into helping him. He would also never admit that the reason why he had practiced untying the mask and blindfold in such a manner was so that the first thing Stiles would see after the ceremony would be Derek.

Derek caught the mask as it fell from Stiles’ pale face, revealing a pair of soft, pink lips and flushed cheeks that were dotted with brown moles, and a most enviable jaw line. Derek had to remind himself to breathe as he took in what he could of his husband’s appearance.

He then turned to pick up the roll, carefully breaking it in half, and then half again. Derek slowly brought the piece of bread up to Stiles’ mouth, biting his lips as he watched his husband’s mouth open to take the offering. As he pulled his hands away, Derek’s thumb caught slightly on Stiles’ bottom lip and his heart skipped a beat. A heat rose up his neck, and he watched, enraptured, as Stiles chewed and swallowed the piece of bread. 

With shaking hands, Derek was at last able to reach behind Stiles’ head to untie the white silk that hid the rest of his face from view. Derek could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and he held his breath. He tried to steady his fingers as they brushed the back of Stiles’ head, running through his silky hair, and he eventually managed to untie the knot. Derek was supposed to catch the fabric, but it fell into Stiles’ lap instead. For both Derek and Stiles, time had stopped.

Derek inadvertently gasped, taken aback by the sheer beauty that he was faced with. A pair of light brown, almost golden, eyes locked with his, and he had no idea what to do next. All he could think of was that Stiles was amazing.

After god knows how long, Stiles cleared his throat and pulled back slightly. Derek realised he still had his hands holding the back of Stiles’ head. He dropped them, face flushing slightly, as Stiles turned to pick up a piece of the bread and fed it to Derek, Stiles’ eyes not quite meeting his as his husband blushed in a most enticing manner.

Afterward, Derek took Stiles’ hand as the plate was cleared and the noise levels gradually rose again as the guests started to discuss the extremely intimate moment they were just privy to. The serving staff came out quickly with plates full of food, ready to serve all the guests.

“Are you ok?” Derek said, his voice sounding slightly hoarse from how dry it had just gone.

“Yeah,” he heard in return. “Just a bit overwhelmed I guess. I guess I still didn’t believe that when I was able to see again I would be married to a prince and be sitting in the palace, surrounded by royalty.” Stiles detached his hand from Derek’s and brought it down into his lap with the other, twiddling his ring and avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“Hey no, come on. You have nothing to worry about.” Derek put two fingers underneath Stiles’ chin and tilted his face up to meet Derek’s eyes, before placing his hands on top of Stiles’, and bringing them back up to the table. “My mother likes you, which is good enough for the rest of my family.” Derek paused before adding quietly “I like you”. 

Stiles’ eyes widened comically at that. “Do you … Do you really mean that?” he asked timidly. 

“Yes,” Derek breathed, before repeating it a lot more confidently. “Yes I do. I barely know you, but you’re beautiful and caring and you make me feel safe, and you seem intelligent, even if you are clumsy.” He chuckled.

“I’m not beautiful” Stiles mumbled, eyes cast down into his lap again.

“Shut up.” Derek quickly interrupted. “You’re beautiful to me and I don’t care what anyone else says.”

There was a slightly awkward silence as Stiles tried not to protest the statement Derek had just made. Derek took pity on his husband and changed the subject. “So when are you going to tell me who all your friends and family are?”

Stiles perked up, and started chatting easily about everyone on his side of the table as they started to eat. Conversation moved through to Derek’s family, to shared interests, and the ones that they didn’t share too. Stiles told Derek all about Beacon Hills and Derek told him about places he’d visited on royal engagements. They talked to Stiles’ friends as they came up to congratulate the pair, and then to Derek’s family when they made their way down the table between courses.

After all the courses had been served, it was time for Derek and Stiles to make their last proper public appearance of the day. They, along with the Sheriff, Derek’s parents and sisters, and Scott, were to make their way out onto the balcony to watch the flypast. It was one of Derek’s favourite parts of public appearances, having trained as a military pilot when he was younger. He had done a tour with his regiment, but now he spent most of his time helping out with the local air ambulance.

The whole of the head table made their way through to the room that was joined to the balcony, both Derek and Stiles’ friends giving them proper hugs and congratulations as soon as they were in a more private setting. The palace photographer shuffled them about a bit and some of the official wedding photos were taken, the newlyweds both smiling shyly, as if neither could believe his luck. Which was a very accurate representation of the truth.

Then Derek and Stiles were shuffled over to the curtains which hid the balcony from their sight, and the room from the prying eyes of the press. Derek put an arm around Stiles’ waist, but this time Stiles slipped an arm around Derek’s waist too. When Derek looked at Stiles in response, his husband just grinned, and Derek felt his breath catch in his throat. He would definitely be trying to make Stiles smile like that more often. 

The curtains were pulled back and the doors opened. Derek and Stiles walked out together onto the balcony, waving at the masses gathered below. Behind them followed the Queen and her husband, the Sheriff, and then Scott, Laura and Cora. 

Derek leaned over to whisper into Stiles’ ear “are you alright?” He received a nod and a smile in return as they listened to the sound of cheering. Derek pointed to a few breaks in the trees, telling him where all the main landmarks were, like Selwood Park. He also pointed to a place in the distance, to the right of where they were standing and whispered into Stiles’ ear “somewhere over there is where we’ll be living”.

They waved for a few more moments before Derek turned toward Stiles and asked “Shall we?” Stiles nodded with a twinkle in his eye, knowing exactly what Derek meant.

Derek turned to face Stiles and leant in to steal a quick kiss. They kept it chaste, even though both parties definitely wanted to take it further. When Derek pulled away, Stiles was blushing, and Derek pressed his forehead to Stiles’, eyes locked, before he turned back to face the crowds, a smile stuck to his face.

He felt Stiles lean over and a hot breath on his ear. “Your eyes are green in real life” he heard Stiles tell him. Derek turned and saw Stiles grinning at him, and returned it quickly, before the roar of engines started to be heard above the crowd. 

“Come on, it’s the flypast. You have got to watch this.” Derek told Stiles excitedly. The flypast would consist of a Spitfire, a Hurricane and a Lancaster, which would fly in formation above the palace. After that the Red Arrows would fly overhead, painting the sky in the country’s colours.

The first three planes came into view and Derek watched in awe as they flew overhead. He had grown up as a boy loving the old warplanes, and he never failed to be amazed each time he saw them.

Stiles mouthed the word “amazing” to his best friend Scott, and Scott chuckled in response. Derek heard the Red Arrows getting closer, but instead of watching the colours exploding from the engine, Derek watched as his husband tilted his head toward the sky to follow the planes as they made their journey over the palace, extending his neck in an almost erotic fashion, while his lips parted in awe.

As the planes flew off into the distance behind them, the rest of the party on the balcony started to disassemble, making their way back inside the palace until Derek and Stiles were the only ones left. They waved some more, taking in the sight of the thousands of spectators who had come decked in the colours of their country to watch them wed each other.

Stiles turned to face Derek, and there was a rather mischievous spark in his eyes. Before Derek could register what was happening, Stiles was leaning in and kissing him again, just as chaste as the last time, but lingering ever so slightly with the promise of more to come.

Derek blushed, waved at the crowds a bit more, and then turned to make his way back into the palace, taking Stiles’ hand as they went.

Inside the palace, they just had the cutting of the cake to do before they could leave for Derek’s house where they would be living for the time being. There was a bit of mingling too; introducing Stiles to various dignitaries and the like, but soon it was time for the pair to leave. Still not soon enough for Derek’s liking.

Derek was driving them there, and in his own Camaro, not one of the old Rolls-Royces that were borrowed from someone or other. They made their way down to the garage and Derek led Stiles over to the sleek black car, with the number plate that had been changed to read “JUST MARRIED”.

“Wow. This is yours?” Stiles asked, his mouth wide in awe.

Derek smirked. “Yes, all mine. You getting in?” he growled. The last bit of mingling he had needed to do was testing, to say the least. All he wanted now was a few hours with Stiles in private, and the longer Stiles was going to stare at his car was the less time they had together before they were wanted out again.

“Alright grumpy face, I’m getting in. I’m just trying to process the fact that you own a car that looks like it came straight from a wet dream.” Stiles holds his hands up, smirking, but otherwise the picture of innocence, before sliding into the passenger seat of the car, leaving Derek to choke slightly at the mental image of Stiles and … he should not go there right now.

Derek got into the car and started up the engine, putting it into first as the garage doors opened out to the street. Derek made sure he was smiling before driving out slowly, but not excessively slow, taking Stiles to their home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again unbeta'd. Enjoy!

Stiles followed behind Derek as he opened the door to his, now their, apartment. He was a bit nervous. Ok, he was extremely nervous. It was the first time that he and Derek would be together in private, and Stiles was pretty sure that anytime soon Derek would realise that it was the adrenalin that made him say those things earlier, and that Stiles was actually kind of a loser. He tried to keep quiet, biting the inside of his lip whenever he felt the need to make a sarcastic remark. He was the queen of sarcasm.

Stiles followed Derek inside, watching as Derek silently and slightly aggressively pulled off his jacket and flung it onto the leather couch to the right, before stalking off further into the apartment, a grimace on his face.

He looked around from his spot by the front door. The walls were mostly a light grey colour. Very dull. There was an open plan dining room/living room off to the right with a huge bookcase, and a door to the left. Stiles gingerly walked through the place, poking his head around the door. It turned out to be a large kitchen, with a granite work top. Again this kept to the dull colours theme. It was almost like Derek hadn’t gotten the message that home was supposed to be a place to enjoy being. Either way, Stiles would probably be avoiding the kitchen. He could bake ok, but his cooking skills were lacking, to say the least.

Carrying on through the hallway, he found a study that was filled with boxes of his things, a mini library, a bathroom, a room with a piano, and a staircase leading to the next floor. Just as Stiles had imagined, the “apartment” was more like a proper house. Not that he was complaining, it meant there was more rooms for him to hide from Derek in after he caught on that Stiles was not a catch.

After deciding to venture up the stairs, Stiles found three empty bedrooms, each with an en suite, another bathroom, and then a room with a closed door. He assumed that was where Derek was. Instead of barging in like he normally would, Stiles decided that it was probably best for him to leave Derek alone. So he went back downstairs, and tried to figure out the TV. 

It didn’t take him long, and soon he was curled up on the couch not watching anything much, and not trying to think about anything either. The ceremony had been wonderful, and Derek had seemed to really like him but then they got in the car and not another word was exchanged. His husband (Stiles sneered at the word) had gone cold and just completely ignored him. Stiles would even go as far as to say that Derek didn’t like him, and that he was just playing nice for the public. Even for their families. He bets Derek is a great actor. There’s no way a royal can get through all those tedious meeting without being at least accomplished at feigning interest.

And with perfect timing, as if to rub it in further, the news comes on the TV; the headline being something about how the prince and his husband were seen looking “besotted” with one another.

With bleary eyes, Stiles turned his head so he could see the screen. As sod’s law would have it, Stiles wasn’t watching the news. He was watching the highlights from his own wedding. The screen replayed the moment when Derek arrived with Laura, looking stunning in a long blue dress, with an asymmetric shoulder. It showed him arriving with his dad, and his walk down the aisle. The faces of everyone in the abbey as they watched him walk. The rings being exchanged, Derek being unmasked, Derek hugging Stiles. He choked up slightly at that image, the memory of Derek’s comforting scent and warm arms still burned into his mind. It had felt so real, and the look in Derek’s eyes on the screen seemed so real. But obviously it wasn’t. Otherwise Derek would be sitting here with him, instead of hiding out in his room.

It went on, showing Derek smiling as he walked up the aisle, him holding Stiles in the car journey back to the palace, them smiling on the balcony and waving, sharing words with each other. And the kisses that promised more. Stiles was so stupid. He couldn’t believe he had been foolish enough to go for a second kiss. Christ, they didn’t even know each other. You don’t kiss people you don’t know. It’s not the done thing. No wonder Derek was angry with him. Everything had gone downhill from there.

The programme went on to discuss some of the finer details of the ceremony, such as who was wearing who, the guests, the rings, the masks – everything really. However, the moments they kept returning to were the hug and the car journey. Phrases like “raw emotion” and “smitten” were being bandied about here and there, and Stiles just zoned out, falling into a sort of trance where he lay still fully dressed in his suit, including his shoes, on the couch.

Eventually, he came out of his daze, probably woken by his growling stomach. He sat up slowly, reaching out for the remote to turn the TV off, which was now a harsh glare in the dark room. Stiles wasn’t sure of the time, but he knew it must be late since it was dark outside, and also the longest day of the year. Rubbing his eyes, he groggily made his way through to the kitchen to try and find some food, and perhaps get a glass of water.

A few minutes later he made his way back to the sofa with a peanut butter sandwich and a pack of chips, half of the bag already shoved inside his sandwich. He ate it quickly, the crunch echoing throughout the silent flat, and the food doing nothing to ease the cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Once he had finished, Stiles curled up on the couch again and fell into an uneasy sleep.

\---

When he awoke the next morning, he was surrounded by a blanket, and his shoes were by the coffee table in front of the sofa. He wasn’t wearing his jacket either. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember if he took them off. He couldn’t, but he also couldn’t remember a lot of last night, so he put it down to the fact that he was having a crash after the adrenalin-filled afternoon. 

The blanket though was definitely Derek. It was good to know that Derek could be civil, even if he didn’t like Stiles.

He got up, pulling off his cravat and undoing the top two buttons on his shirt before making his way back down the hall towards the study to try and find his phone. It took a while, but he managed to locate his rucksack that he had taken to the palace with him and dug out his phone. When he turned it on, he had 27 new messages, mostly from people congratulating him on becoming the next royal, and also the newest celebrity in town. He skimmed through those until he reached the ones from Scott and his dad. They were both asking him to reply, and got increasingly annoyed when he didn’t. His dad just left it, but Scott said “I assume you’re busy with Derek and do not want to be disturbed ;)”, which was gross. 

As much as Stiles wouldn’t mind getting a bit of that ass, there was no way that would be happening. He sent a quick text back to Scott telling him to piss off, and one to his dad telling him everything was fine. Which is was, and which was definitely not a lie. Then he sent a text to everyone who had congratulated him saying thanks for their support, yes he was extremely happy to have Hottie Hale on his arm, and no he wouldn’t share. 

Pocketing his phone, he scouted around for some of his clothes. When he found them, he pulled out a grey t-shirt, a plaid shirt, and a pair of jeans, along with some fresh underwear, and made his way to the bathroom, where he splashed some water on his face and got changed. 

After that his stomach started telling him it was time to eat. He pulled out his phone again to check the time, only to be surprised that it was almost midday. Hoping not to run into Derek, he ventured into the kitchen again, only to be disappointed. Derek was in there and was cooking a fry up. He paused by the door, taking in the sight of Derek in a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a tight black t-shirt, both of which framed his figure perfectly. It was such a domestic sight, and one that in another situation might have Stiles’ stomach in butterflies. But alas! This wasn’t the right situation.

Stiles took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, as quietly as he could, trying not to get in Derek’s way. He made his was over to the cupboard where he had found the glasses the night before, and pulled one out. Derek turned around when he turned on the tap to fill it up.

“Good morning Stiles,” Derek said, sounding almost tentative as he pulled out a plate for the food he was cooking.

“Morning” Stiles mumbled back, keeping his eyes cast downward in order to avoid any awkward eye contact. He made his way to leave the kitchen, glass clutched in hand, but Derek frowned at him, confused.

“Why are you leaving?” he asked, pausing as he plated up the food. Stiles didn’t answer, just shuffled his feet about. “I made you breakfast” Derek told him, waving the plate full of food toward him.

“Why would you do that?” Stiles asked defensively, instinct kicking in a telling him it was a trap. If the popular one does something nice for the nerdy kid it meant something was wrong. Stiles knew how it went, had done since he was nine years old.

Derek looked taken aback, hurt even, and Stiles cringed inside. He didn’t want to make Derek look like that, but he wouldn’t apologise. “I heard you get up and I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “Uh … I’ll just leave it here.”

Derek placed the plate of food on the table where a knife and fork had already been set, and then quickly made his way out of the room, avoiding all contact with Stiles. Feeling rejected, Stiles sat down at the table to eat, but suddenly he wasn’t feeling all that hungry. He picked at a sausage and a bit of bacon, before getting up and leaving.

He made his way upstairs into one of the spare bedrooms, and then pulled out his phone. He debated whether he should actually call someone for a solid five minutes, and then who to call for a good five minutes after that. Eventually he decided that Lydia was the person he needed to talk to. With just a few touches, Stiles had the phone to his ear and was waiting for the redhead to pick up.

“Stiles! How are you!” she cried through the phone.

“Not great” he whispered back.

“Ok, you just wait one moment. I’m going somewhere more private so we can discuss this.”

“Thank you Lydia.”

“Oh no. This is bad. You said thank you. What’s happened? You were so happy yesterday.”

“I don’t think he likes me” Stiles croaked out, eyes filling with tears. He shut his eyes and curled up on his bed, phone propped to his ear.

“Don’t be stupid. I saw the way he looked at you yesterday. That is not how you look at someone if you don’t like them.” Lydia told him affectionately.

“It was horrible Lyds. I thought so too. I really thought we could be something, but he hates me. There’s no doubt about it,” he choked out.

“What makes you say that?” she asked quietly.

“When we got in his car, he said nothing to me. And then when we got to his apartment, he just stormed off to his room and left me alone all evening. I ended up sleeping on the couch. Not a word. He didn’t show me around, tell me if there was dinner, if I had a bedroom. Nothing. He didn’t even tell me where my stuff was. He just threw his blazer on the couch and left me on my own. That’s not what you do if you like someone” Stiles said into the phone, bitterly echoing what Lydia had said to him earlier.

“Oh honey,” she sighed.

“I just wish he had said something you know, instead of leaving me on my own in a new flat. He’s not the only one in this relationship. Just because he’s a royal doesn’t mean he can piss off whenever he likes. We’re husbands Lydia. I thought that was supposed to mean something.”

Stiles’ voice cracked on the last word, and he lost any shred of control he had left, and started crying into his phone. Lydia, being the darling that she is, just listened, occasionally saying things like “we’ll work through this” or “just give it a bit of time, maybe you’re both stressed from yesterday”, or Stiles’ personal favourite “he’s a dick”.

Eventually, he had finished crying, and he thanked Lydia for just being there. She gave him some very sage advice on how it didn’t matter if Derek was a royal or not, in the eyes of the law they’re now equals and Stiles should be treated as such. She then made a promise not to talk to anybody about it before hanging up.

Stiles didn’t bump into Derek again until about four in the afternoon. He had been on his way to the bathroom when Derek was coming down the hall from the kitchen. Stiles felt slightly guilty about leaving the plate of food Derek had cooked him virtually untouched, but didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t eat.” Derek said blandly, making a statement rather than a question.

“No” Stiles replied, looking down at his sock-covered toes.

“Why not?” came Derek’s response, with a chill in his voice.

“Wasn’t hungry” Stiles mumbled, curling his toes up and relaxing them, over and over again.

A silence descended in the flat and Stiles looked up to see Derek looking at him with soft eyes, head cocked slightly to one side. “What’s wrong Stiles?”

“Nothing” he lied.

“Something’s not right. You’ve barely said a word since we got back yesterday.” Derek pressed, looking for an answer.

Something snapped inside of Stiles. Probably because of the way Derek had suddenly decided to be a model husband. “What’s wrong you ask. I’ll tell you what’s fucking wrong. I thought you liked me. Everything was going swimmingly yesterday until the second we were in private. Then you decided to ignore me like I meant nothing. I don’t give a shit if you’re royal or not. You deceived me. Made me think I had a chance and then crushed it without even giving me a reason why. And then when we finally get to the place that I’m supposed to be sharing with you, you fucking leave me. No ‘the kitchen’s over there’ or ‘your stuff is in the study’. You just fucking left me to work that out myself.” He held up his left hand to Derek’s face. “And here was me thinking this ring meant something.”

Stiles barged past Derek towards the front door. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up, love” he shouted bitterly before leaving and slamming the door shit behind him.

Of course he didn’t leave. He may not be thinking clearly, but even he could tell that going out onto the streets in his current state would be a PR disaster and possibly one of the worst things he could do to Derek’s reputation, even if he deserved it. Stiles couldn’t ever consider being that mean to anybody. Instead he just sat and cried on the steps leading up to Derek’s door. He was still in private. Stiles knew that the whole building was owned by the royals so he was safe from prying eyes here, and also from Derek.

After an eternity, Stiles had stopped crying because he had nothing left to give. He was just slumped against the wall feeling completely hollow inside. He heard the door open behind him but his brain didn’t seem to register it as significant.

Derek sat down next to him and sat there for a while in silence.

“I’m sorry” Stiles heard Derek whisper. “I’m sorry you thought I hated you. I’m sorry I didn’t treat you how I should have. I’m sorry I messed things up before they even started.”

More silence, and then in a broken voice; “Please come home.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story is coming to it's end. The next chapter will be the epilogue, and will be posted next Tuesday. I want to say thank you for all the comments and support I've had. I love you all. As per, it isn't beta tested. Enjoy!

A very pale Stiles nodded gingerly at Derek and allowed himself to be helped up and walked into the apartment, mainly because he didn’t think that he would be able to do it by himself. Stiles’ legs gave out on the top step leaving him almost falling to the ground. Thankfully, Derek managed to catch him, and swept him up into his arms, carrying him bridal style through the doorway, and carefully laying him down on the couch, brushing the hair out of Stiles’ eyes.

Then Derek went to the kitchen to get a can of coke and some biscuits. He poured the drink into a glass, put the biscuits onto a plate, and placed both on the coffee table in front of where Stiles was lying, eyes glazed over. 

Derek sat down beside Stiles and pulled the limp body toward him so that Stiles was lying in Derek’s arms. He ran his hands up and down Stiles’ arms slowly, trying to get his husband to relax, or at least respond.

“Stiles?” he asked, trying to get a response. A head turned his way, but no eyes met his own. “Will you try and eat something. You haven’t eaten properly since yesterday afternoon. Or drink something. I’ve got coke and biscuits here but I can cook something or order something in or anything. Please?” 

A shaky hand reached out.

“What do you want?” Derek asked, trying to help Stiles.

Stiles choked out a few sounds before he managed to croak out, “Drink,” while still straining to reach the glass.

Derek leaned over, holding Stiles to make sure he didn’t fall off the couch, and picked up the glass for him. Stiles shifted into a more upright position before taking the glass from Derek’s hands and putting it to his lips. After the first few swallows, Stiles sighed contentedly, and kept drinking. Derek took that as a good sign, and just kept rubbing circles with his thumbs into Stiles’ arms.

Soon, Stiles had finished the drink and was eyeing up the biscuits. Derek took the glass and placed it back on the table, picking up the plate of mixed biscuits and resting it on his knee. Stiles took a chocolate digestive and took a small bite. Derek watched as he swallowed carefully and took a few more, larger bites. Stiles ate a few more biscuits before putting the plate back on the table. It wasn’t too much longer after that before the colour started to return to Stiles’ skin and his eyes stopped looking so glassy.

Stiles had started fidgeting a bit so Derek knew he was feeling more like himself again. “Do you want a proper meal or are you ok with those biscuits?” he asked, wanting to make sure that Stiles was looked after before they talked.

Stiles paused, before replying, “I’d like some food thanks,” in a quiet, and unsure voice.

“What do you want? Pasta, fry up, Sunday roast? I can make anything you want. Or we could order in,” Derek replied quickly.

Stiles replied, saying that he would mind a fry up, and Derek got up to make it. To his surprise, Stiles followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table, still not saying anything, but no longer avoiding him, watching him with curious eyes.

No words were exchanged while Derek cooked for his husband and the tension in the air was still heavy around them. Quarter of an hour later, Derek was sat opposite Stiles, who was now eating a proper meal for the first time in well over 24 hours. Derek was the first to break the silence, waiting until Stiles was nearly finished with his meal.

“I’m sorry,” he told Stiles again.

Stiles looked up at him. “So you’ve said, but I want to know why.” Stiles said after he finished his last mouthful, placing his knife and fork together on the plate, and pushing it away from him slightly.

“This will sound slightly ridiculous, but you’ll have to bear with me for now,” Derek told him, looking down at his hands as he began to explain to Stiles his behaviour yesterday. “I’m not good at dealing with people, I find it frustrating and I have a habit of, if I’ve had to spend too long with large groups of people I don’t know or like, shutting myself away afterwards for a few hours, sometimes up to half a day, to release all the pent up … aggression I suppose is the closest word to it, and that’s what happened yesterday.” Derek paused and took a deep breath, while Stiles waited patiently. “Only yesterday was awful. All I wanted after the balcony was to bring you here, but we had to stay for hours making nice with two-faced politicians and people who are really not nice people, and when we got into a private setting something sort of snapped, and it was you who I ignored, when all I wanted was to spend the evening getting to know you.

“When I did eventually calm down, I came down to find you asleep here. I didn’t want to disturb you because it had been a long day and you needed to rest, so I took off your shoes and your jacket, and found a blanket. 

“I’m not condoning what I did. It was an awful thing to do, and I am ashamed of myself for what I put you through. I was selfish and out of line, and I hope we can start over, if you can forgive me.” Derek held his breath, twiddling his thumbs while he waited for Stiles to respond.

Instead of saying something that might indicate that Derek hadn’t ruined their relationship completely; Stiles just got up and left. Derek’s heart sunk and there was a cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he heard the front door open and close again – the sound of Stiles leaving him.

His head hung heavy and he let it fall onto the table while he tried to recover from the sound having knocked the air out of his lungs. He was so stricken that he almost missed the knocking at the door.

He lifted his head up, confused, and listened carefully. Three more knocks. He hadn’t imagined them. He went to the door and opened it, to find Stiles smiling at him. He started blankly, confused as Stiles held out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Stiles Stilinksi and I’m new around here. Do you think you could be my guide?”

It took a few moments for what Stiles had just said to register, and then a smile crept on to Derek’s face. He took Stiles’ hand and shook it, replying, “Sure, no problem. Derek Hale. Do you fancy coming in for a drink or something? I’ll show you around.”

Derek stepped aside as Stiles walked into the apartment, and Derek took him into the kitchen again, where the empty plate lay on the table. “Coffee?” he offered.

“Coffee would be wonderful. Two sugars please.” Stiles quickly replied. “So did you hear about that prince getting married? I didn’t see any of it myself. I bet the prince is a right dick at times though. Still, the partner must be happy, married to that hottie.” Stiles mused, joking as Derek made the coffee.

Derek spluttered slightly at Stiles’ comments, and a blush crept up his neck, “Yeah, apparently it was supposed to be quite a spectacle. I didn’t see it myself, but I heard that the prince’s husband was also rather handsome. Maybe we should watch the highlights later,” Derek smirked as Stiles went red.

“Uh … yes. Good idea,” Stiles stammered.

“Coffee’s done,” Derek told him, holding out a spotted mug for Stiles to take. “Still want that tour?”

“Definitely. Show me around your humble abode,” Stiles answered, following Derek, who just shook his head at Stiles’ quirks, out of the room.

Derek started to show him around. He showed Stiles the study, where all his things were still waiting to be unpacked, then the library, explaining that he just ended up with too many overflowing bookshelves, so he turned one of the spare rooms into a library. He glossed over the bathroom, it wasn’t an interesting room, before moving into the music room.

“Do you play the piano?” Stiles asked, looking toward the upright that sat against the back wall of the room.

“Yes. I learnt as a child. I passed my diploma when I was 18. A diploma is the next level up from Grade 8.”

“Wow. That’s amazing,” Stiles said as he ran his fingers over the black and white keys. “You’re going to have to play for me sometime. Do you play anything else?”

“Violin and Saxophone. I reached Grade 8 in both of those too.”

“I could never imagine someone as sullen-looking as you playing an instrument, but then again it fits your character profile perfectly. Broody, mysterious, tall, dark, handsome, and plays three instruments.” Stiles joked.

“Come on, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Stiles followed Derek up the stairs, where Derek proceeded to show him the guest bedrooms, and then his own room. Derek’s room was a similar size to the other rooms – fairly big, and had a king sized bed pressed against the farthest wall from the door. He had a desk with a laptop sitting on it, a bookcase with his favourite books, minus A Comedy of Errors by Shakespeare, which was on his bedside table, next to a small lamp. Also in the room was a chest of drawers, on top of which sat a TV. It was positioned opposite the bed, so that it could be seen whilst lying down.

In comparison to the rooms in the palace, which were decorated with rich colours and dark wood furniture, Derek’s room, and his flat in general, was quite the opposite. It was very plain, not much decoration on the walls. There was a framed photo of an orchestra that Stiles had made a mental note to ask about later, but very few other photos, or anything really. The flat was painted mostly light grey, with some white, cream, and darker greys, and most of the furniture was plain white. Something that Stiles would definitely rally to change if he would be living here a lot, which he suspected he would be.

“Fancy watching something? I don’t have many movies but I can sign up for Netflix or something, or we can find something on the TV to watch. I don’t mind.” Derek asked.

Stiles looked down at his feet and murmured, “could we watch the wedding? I mean the full thing. We can skip through any boring stuff.” Even though Stiles had seen part of the highlights the night before, he wasn’t thinking that clearly, and he wanted to see it again, no matter how weird it would be seeing himself marry a prince.

Derek was a little bit surprised. He had been half joking when he suggested watching it in the kitchen, but he was really curious to see the footage of his own wedding. “Yeah, uh sure. You sit down on the bed while I sort it out.”

Derek walked over to the TV to turn it on and to pick up the remote, and when he turned around again he saw Stiles sitting up against the headrest, pillow tucked behind his back, and Derek’s duvet pulled right up to his ears. Derek laughed and Stiles gave him an annoyed look.

“I was cold,” Stiles said defensively. “It’s not my fault you have absolutely no concept of what a normal room temperature should be.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Derek replied, and just sat down on the bed next to Stiles. He fiddled with the remote, pressing a few buttons, and soon he had the coverage of their wedding playing through the catch up service. He gave the remote to Stiles, telling him to skip through what he didn’t want to see.

Stiles took it, and fast forwarded until the car that Derek and Laura were taken to the abbey in came on screen, when he clicked play again. The pair watched silently as cameras followed the car to the abbey. Laura helped Derek out of the car and to the doors. While the cameras showed Derek and his sister walking down the aisle in the silent abbey, Stiles turned to his partner.

“Did you really have to walk the whole way in silence?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes. It was another stupid tradition. I can’t remember what it was supposed to symbolise, but the music was supposed to be kept until both parties were in the church. I’m guessing our ancestors never had to walk down a 300ft aisle, blindfolded, in silence, with thousands of pairs of eyes watching their every step.” Derek replied, turning his head towards Stiles.

“Jesus … It was bad enough doing it with the orchestra playing, which was admittedly lovely, but it’s not something I’d want to experience again.”

They sat mostly in silence. Occasionally one of the pair would ask a question about someone or something on screen. By the time they had finished watching the coverage, which took a few hours, even skipping the boring parts (namely where they were inside at the reception and the live feeds had to find stuff to fill the gaps with), Derek had managed to work his way underneath the duvet and had his side pressed to Stiles’, with an arm around his husband’s shoulder.

Derek put the TV on standby with a press of a button, not wanting to get up out of the bed, and leave his comfortable position next to Stiles. They lay in the bed for long, silent minutes, before Derek finally broke the silence.

“We should probably go to bed. It’s gone midnight. You can use one of the guest rooms if you want,” Derek paused, swallowing and taking a deep breath before finishing the sentence. “Or you could sleep in here. With me.”

Derek refused to meet Stiles’ eyes, staring blankly at the end of the bed, anticipating a no.

“I’d um … I’d like that. Will you help me bring some of my things up? We can unpack the rest tomorrow, but I will need my toothbrush and pyjamas and things.” Stiles replied, shocking Derek slightly.

“Really?” Derek asked, turning to look at Stiles, who had gone very pink in the face, with wide eyes.

“Yeah. I like you, and we are husbands. We should probably get used to it right? Also who wouldn’t want to sleep with that?” he gestured towards Derek’s whole body. “I mean I won’t be sleeping with you in the having sex sense of the phrase, I mean we’ve only just met, but hey! Who knows what will happen in the future what with all the – ”

He was cut off by a hand clamping down on his mouth.

“Shut up Stiles,” Derek said, and Stiles nodded. Derek took his hand off Stiles’ mouth and pulled the covers back to get up. “Come on; let’s get your stuff and go to sleep.”

As Derek got out of the bed, Stiles just pulled the covers up around his ears mumbling “but I’m warm”. In response, Derek just yanked the duvet away, chuckling as he walked out of the room at the squeal that Stiles would later deny.

“You know, we should visit my dad soon. Maybe tomorrow. That way he won’t have time to fret about preparing a huge dinner or something, because he would. And you can trust me when I say he’s not a great cook. He’s not supposed to be working tomorrow.” Stiles shouted to Derek from upstairs while he made his way to the study. “We could either stealth visit him or we could make a proper date of it. You could even meet my friends properly, although maybe it’d be better to wait until after dad threatens to disembowel you or something equally unoriginal.”

Derek was waiting by the entrance to the study, arms crossed, “I don’t mind visiting him tomorrow, if you want. I know you haven’t seen him properly since the wedding, and I didn’t really get the chance to meet him.” Derek paused, “although that does mean that you’ll have to meet my parents too” he told his husband, with a smirk on his face.

“Oh my god, maybe not then. I don’t think I ever want to meet your mum again. She is literally the scariest woman to have ever walked this universe.” Stiles frantically replied.

“She’s not really. And she already loves you. Just wait until you meet my sisters. And Isaac, Erica and Boyd. They are scary. What stuff do you need for bed then?” 

They sifted through Stiles’ stuff and managed to find his toothbrush before giving up. Derek leant Stiles a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, both of which looked huge on Stiles because he was so much skinnier, and the bottoms hung loosely around his hips.

Later when they were lying in bed together, lights turned out and only the low hum of the city traffic outside keeping them from complete silence, Stiles asked Derek, “Do you think we’re going to work?”

To this, Derek turned over so he was facing Stiles back and reached over to pull his husband in to his body, before saying, “I think we’re going to be wonderful,” running a hand through Stiles’ hair and kissing the back of his husband’s head. “Now go to sleep Stiles,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ torso and closing his eyes, basking in the warmth that radiated from the younger man and the smell that reminded him of home. Somewhere deep inside, Derek just knew that they were going to work out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I want to thank [Vafrous_Vee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vafrous_Vee) for practically being my beta in the comments section. You are a truly wonderful person and you have helped me so much.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! I must confess, when I started this I never believed I would finish it, let alone produce something that I'm extremely proud of, and I have [Badwolfbadwolff](http://http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com/) to thank for this. Without her support and encouragement I probably would never even have started this, and would have been lamenting the fact that I had an idea I couldn't write.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. It's been a blast.

ONE YEAR ON: A LOOK AT THE ROYAL COUPLE

[Montage of photographs of Stiles and Derek with a voiceover]

On the eve of the one year anniversary of the wedding of HRH Prince Derek of Tulwell to Stiles Stilinski, Channel 3 has managed to get an exclusive interview with the happy couple themselves.

Since they married last year, the public has seen a lot of this enigmatic duo. Unlike other royals, or even other celebrity couples, they seem happy to be seen in public, often going out to visit big attractions in the capital city. 

Furthermore, the prince, who was once renowned for being a recluse, has come out of his shell and has been seen on multiple occasions smiling and laughing with his husband. Could this unlikely pairing be a match made in heaven?

[Title screen]

[Camera opens with a shot of Derek and Stiles sitting next to each other on their couch in their flat. Claire Risely sits on a chair opposite them]

Claire: Hello

Derek: Hello

Stiles: Hey

Claire: So, one year on. Congratulations.

Derek: Thank you

Claire: I must say; you two make a great couple. Was it tough not knowing each other to begin with?

Stiles: Yes. He ignored me the first time he brought me here. I’d just married the hottest guy in the world and then I got back to his bachelor pad and he left me on my own. It was terrifying. Everything in the flat was a different shade of grey.

Derek: That’s not true. Some of the furniture was white.

Stiles: A joke! I trained him well. Did you know he used to be the grumpiest person in the world too?

Claire: I had heard the rumours. You mentioned that the flat was very dull. It certainly isn’t now.

Stiles: Well I got so annoyed with the flat that one day when he was out doing his royal mumbo jumbo, I went out and got some paint. As you can see from the from the Jackson Pollock-esque walls, floors, and furniture, my attempts at livening up the flat were more miss than hit. We still haven’t got around to fixing it up nicely.

Derek: You know you could have just asked to change the décor. I would have helped.

Stiles: Every single time you bring this up you tell me you would’ve helped but I know you’d rather just live in a bat cave pretending to be Batman. There’s no way you could have perfected your scowl otherwise.

Derek: I didn’t bring up the change in décor.

Stiles: Stop lying. You know I’m right.

Derek: See what I have to put up with?

Stiles: Shut up. You love me.

Derek: I’ve no idea why.

[Derek puts an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and Stiles leans in to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder, pulling his legs up onto the couch beside him]

Claire: So have you got any plans for tomorrow [their anniversary]?

Stiles: Yes but I’m not telling him.

[Stiles pokes Derek in the chest]

Derek: You had better not be taking me surfing again.

Stiles: Oh my god that was one time! The rest of our dates have been great.

Claire: Are you talking about all those public outings you’ve been spotted on?

Stiles: Yeah man.

Claire: Tell me about them. How did they start?

Stiles: Well we never really got to do the dating thing because blind, arranged marriage malarkey, so I thought ‘hey, there’s nothing saying we can’t do things a different way round’, so I took Derek out on a date. I think he enjoyed it. If he didn’t, I don’t care.

Derek: When he says took, he means forcibly dragged.

Stiles: Another joke! It must be Christmas.

Derek: No, it’s just our anniversary.

Stiles: Awww

[Derek turns and kisses the top of Stiles’ forehead. Stiles blushes]

Stiles: I can’t believe he does that. Anything I say he can reply with a romantic comment that has me stumped. I love it and hate it at the same time.

Claire: Looks like you’ve bagged yourself a keeper there.

Derek: I have, haven’t I?

Stiles: Shut up. You’re not allowed to be disgustingly cute and make me embarrassed on TV. You do realise my dad will be watching this when it broadcasts tomorrow. I do not want him to see me like this. Also this better not make the final edit.

Derek: You know that they won’t cut that, it’s too cute.

Stiles: I can dream.

Claire: Stiles, you mentioned your father. Am I right in thinking he’s the Sheriff of your hometown, Beacon Hills. What did he think of the whole event?

Stiles: Oh man, I love the Hills. It’s in Chalford if you don’t know. He was slightly wary of the whole thing. I mean, he’s wary of everything. It comes with the job. Anyway, I think he was a bit upset that I’d be moving so far away, because he’d be on his own. But I guess it helped that Melissa finally realised that my dad wasn’t going to man up and ask to marry him. So she did it instead.

Derek: She’s an amazing woman.

Stiles: Yeah she is. Anyway, the impending doom brought about by my leaving didn’t stop dad from getting out his guns when my hubbie visited for dinner the first time around. You should have seen him. He was definitely scared of my dad.

Derek: He’s your dad and he’s a Sheriff who carries a gun. Of course I was going to be scared. You weren’t any better when you met my family.

Stiles: Firstly, royalty. Secondly, your sisters are devils in disguise. I feel sorry for you growing up with them.

Claire: So what did your family think of Stiles, Derek?

Derek: They loved him, which is what was so weird. I already knew my mother liked him, because she was the one who made the match.

Claire: Do you know why she chose Stiles?

Derek: No. She never told me, even when I asked. But I do know that she must have seen something extraordinary in Stiles, which is why I wasn’t ever nervous that he wouldn’t be a good person.

Claire: And Stiles, do you have any idea why she chose you?

Stiles: I’d never seen her before, outside of the media, she turned up at my dad’s house asking if I wanted to marry her son. I was nervous that he wouldn’t be a good person, because all I knew about him was that he was way out of my league.

Derek: I hate it when you say that. You don’t realise how lucky I feel to have you.

Stiles: So you keep telling me.

Derek: And I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.

[Derek turns to press a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head]

Claire: Is it true that you two have been considering adoption?

Stiles: Yeah. I mean, we both want to have a child one day, but of course it’s not biologically possible, so we’ve been considering other options. Adoption is one, but we’ve also thought about surrogacy.

Derek: Nothing’s been decided on yet though, and it probably won’t be for a while. We’re in no hurry, and we’ve only been together for a year. Whilst we have talked about it, we won’t consider it in more detail for another year or so.

Stiles: I don’t want to give up dragging his royal ass out on dates just yet. Did you hear about the time we went mountain biking in the rain?

Claire: Tell us more.

[Derek clamps a hand over Stiles’ mouth]

Derek: Sorry, Stiles’ is indisposed at the moment and won’t be able to talk unless it’s to answer questions not related to that disaster. Some things are better left unsaid.

Claire: Such a shame. I was looking forward to that. So what have your best dates been?

Stiles: I don’t know about Derek, but my favourite was definitely going to the zoo. It was one our first date and the zoo was quiet and everything was just really nice. I’ve even got a picture of Derek with a butterfly that landed on his pretty face.

Claire: What about your favourite date then?

Derek: Stiles and I were on holiday in the country and one night he took me up to the top of the hill there and we had a picnic under the stars. It’s very cliché, but it was such a special night, and one I’ll always treasure.

[Stiles blushes]

Stiles: That was such an unbelievably romantic thing to say that I think I might implode. 

Derek: You were the one who came up with the idea though, so technically you’re the romantic one.

Stiles: Hey! Don’t turn this back on me. This isn’t my fault.

Derek: I never said it was. Now shut up so we can carry on with the interview.

Stiles: Oh yeah, we’re doing an interview. I thought we were having a domestic.

Derek: There’s no point me trying to argue with you. You talk too much.

Stiles: Yeah, but you love it.

Derek: I do love it. I love you.

[Derek kisses the Stiles’ temple]

Derek: What else do you want to know?

Claire: Do you have any plans for the future?

Stiles: I’m planning on setting up a charity to support kids with ADHD and their families. I had it when I was younger and it was a right pain in the ass … can I say that? Anyway, it was especially bad when it was just me and my dad. I just want to be able to give them support in a way I never had. Not that my dad didn’t support me or anything, it was just sometimes difficult for him when he had to work late shifts, or was called out with a moment’s notice. 

Claire: That’s a very ambitious thing to do. I hope it all goes well.

Stiles: Thanks

Claire: And what about you Derek?

Derek: I’ve enrolled to go back to university in September to study veterinary science. I originally did history, but I always wanted to work with wild animals, especially wolves, and Stiles has been pestering me to go for it. 

Stiles: I know there’s not a lot of wild animals in the city, but maybe in a few years’ time we’ll have moved away from the wild life.

Derek: I’ve already been having a look, and there’s a wolf sanctuary in the preserve down in Beacon Hills, which would be close to Stiles’ dad and his friends. His dad means a lot to him. He means a lot to me as well.

Stiles: You would move to the middle of nowhere just for that?

Derek: I would do anything for you.

Stiles: What about your family though?

Derek: I’d see them a lot. My sisters wouldn’t settle for anything less. I think if I didn’t see them at least once a month they’d kidnap me.

[They all laugh]

Derek: Joking aside, we’re a very close family, but we’re also a big one. In some ways I think it’s more important for Stiles to be closer to his family because he’s only got his dad.

Stiles: I’ve got you though. And your family. Also Scott. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week if I didn’t say I’ve got him. He’s practically my brother. In fact he is actually my step-brother. Did I mention the fact that his mum married my dad? Well she did, which would be weird if we weren’t already so close. She was always like a mother to me growing up, and our parents were always close. It was inevitable really.

Claire: I can’t believe it, we’re at the end!

Stiles: No way! That went so quickly. How did that happen?

Claire: I’ve no idea, but it was a pleasure talking to you.

Derek: No, it was our pleasure.

[Stiles pouts]

Stiles: Stop being so smooth, it’s going to make people fall in love with you. They can’t have you. Only I can have you.

Derek: You have me, you idiot.

[Claire and Derek laugh. Stiles turns to kiss Derek]

Claire: I think I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for having me, and have a wonderful anniversary.

Derek: Thank you

Stiles: We will definitely have a wonderful day tomorrow.

 

After the interview

 

“Did you really mean it about moving to Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks as they cuddle on the sofa.

“Absolutely” Derek replied, stroking his husband’s hair. “I know how much you miss your dad.”

Stiles turned to look Derek in the eyes, a smile taking over his whole face. “You’re perfect, you know that right?”

“Only for you,” Derek replied, pulling Stiles in for a kiss.

Stiles hums into the kiss for a while before pulling away.

“I love you,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s lips, before kissing Derek again. “I really love you.”

“I love you too Stiles,” Derek replied. “I love you more than anything.”


End file.
